#frankie morales x you x joel miller

[lotusbxtch]

SoCal to NorCal: Chapter 2

Series Masterlist Chapter 1: Malibu

Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together? - or - you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 2: Highway 101 & Beyond

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Joel Miller

Chapter Summary: As you road trip north, you and Frankie struggle to voice your growing feelings for each other. Joel suggests something surprising, and the three of you unexpectedly explore new territory together.

Word Count: 8.7k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter Warnings/Tags: polyamory, phone sex, video sex, masturbation (f and m), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), multiple orgasms, creampie, cum kink, cum eating, there’s a lot of cum lol i’m sorry in advance if that’s not your thing, squirting, slight size kink, mentions of food, mentions of Frankie’s young daughter named Isabella, mentions of drug addiction and recovery, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, she/her pussy pronouns, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames, Frankie the PEK, Joel’s filthy mouth is absolutely its own warning, idiots in love, a splash of angst, soft!Joel but also menace!Joel because we love a man with duality, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n. Everyone is testing negative for STDs and Reader is on birth control.

a/n: The road trip continues! I’m so excited to dive more into Frankie and Reader’s relationship, and I KNOW you all have been waiting for Joel to get into the mix. Well, buckle up buttercups, because he is about to be THE BIGGEST MENACE lmao. A deeply grateful thank you to my darling @for-a-longlongtime, who encourages me every day, helped me massively flesh out some of the more emotional aspects of the chapter, and who I talk to almost every day, in addition to being my beta reader. Thank you @mountainsandmayhem, @alltheirdamn , and @mermaidgirl30 for screaming with me about these three when I shared excerpts with you. And thank you to everyone for being patient with me while I got this written up between huge life events (both good and bad)! Dividers & banners by the amazing @saradika-graphics, thank you. (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

You’re so happy.

After your short but memorable stay with Santiago, you and Frankie have been on the road, spending the last few days leisurely meandering up Highway 1 towards San Francisco. You take turns driving, playing car DJ, and sightseeing as you travel north. Tanned feet on the dash, chaste kisses to the back of hands while driving, a shifting playlist between your differing musical tastes. Nights spent snuggled up in a rental or hotel room, playing 20 Questions or “Would You Rather”, kisses turning into intertwining of limbs, labored breath and fingers gripping bed sheets, the murmuring of each other’s names like prayers. 

In Ojai, you drank a little too much wine at the tasting room and biked back to the hotel with wobbly legs. Hearst Castle landed on your list for the formerly-captive-now-wild zebras (you) and to gawk at “ridiculously rich people shit” (Frankie). Ocean kayaking amongst the sea otters and sea lions in Morro Bay filled both of you with wonder. Frankie let you lead him into every little boutique shop that called your name, contentedly trailing behind you while you browsed.

Wherever you were, Frankie indulged your sweet tooth by sniffing out the best artisan ice cream shops. One time during a playful debate, you bopped your frozen treat to Frankie’s nose, giggling at his surprised expression and kissing the sticky-sweet remnants off of him before he picked you up over his shoulder. Your shrieks of joy ricocheted off the small town street until he tossed you in the backseat of his Jeep and crawled in after you, demanding a taste of something sweeter. Before you knew it, you were moaning and sighing under Frankie’s ministrations in an abandoned parking lot. The sight of his messy curls between your thighs as he lapped at your core propelled you into a stratosphere of pleasure. 

The next morning, you continued your road trip north and stopped in Santa Cruz to experience the boardwalk since Frankie had never been. Sun-drenched wood slats under your feet, the crisp, briny breeze cooling your exposed skin. You and Frankie meander slowly, eating chocolate dipped soft serve cones and curly fries, hopping onto the slightly rickety carnival rides, including the famous wooden (and creaky) Giant Dipper roller coaster. (“This thing can’t be structurally sound if it’s making all that noise,” Frankie muttered, but you still got him to get on.)

Adrenaline trickling through your veins, giddy with endorphins from the coaster, you and Frankie debate who had the best strategy for the carousel’s metal ring toss game. “You can’t just huck it like a ninja star,” he gripes about your approach, shaking his head with a smile. “You have to finesse and time it, and throw it like a frisbee so it floats in.”

“I swear, I was way closer than you were,” you shoot back. “I’ve had my whole life to perfect my technique. One of my rings hit the clown’s mouth! More than I can say about your attempts.” You stick your tongue out at Frankie, and he rolls his eyes playfully. Neither of you had set off the lights and buzzers that indicated a successful throw. He’s about to point this out when his phone trills.

Pulling it out of his pocket, his eyebrows knit together a bit before answering. “Mamá,” Frankie says into the phone, “Que pasa? Is something wrong?” He had dropped off Isabella with her for the duration of the road trip, his mother always eager to have “girl time” with her only grandchild. 

“No, no, mijo,” she responds, “Estámos bien. Isa is napping. I just wanted to call you and see how your vacation is going. You work so hard, you deserve to have this time to yourself!”

Frankie breaths a small sigh of relief. “Oh, okay, good. Well, I’ve gotta keep it short. We’re out here on the pier.”

“ ‘WE?’ ” you suddenly hear screeching out of the phone, her tone ecstatic. “Who are you with? Oh my goodness, are you with that girl?” 

Frankie winces, holding the phone away from his ear as you chuckle. “Yes, mamá,” Frankie responds, “the woman I told you about. You don’t need to yell.” He looks at you, a blush slowly creeping up his face, a sheepish smile on his lips. He mouths “five minutes” while walking towards the side of the walkway. Nodding your head with a smile, you whisper, “take your time,” and kiss his cheek, settling on a bench nearby but out of earshot of the conversation, allowing Frankie his privacy. 

“Oh, mijo, that’s wonderful!” his mother exclaims. “When do I get to meet her?”

Frankie huffs out a laugh. “Mamá, relax. You will get to meet her in time. We’re not quite there yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Haven’t you been together for a few months now?”

“Yes, but…” Frankie trails off, not quite sure his mother can handle a full explanation of your situation. Honestly, as he thinks about it, he isn’t even 100% sure what to call the two of you anymore. “It’s complicated,” he says simply.

The both of you agreed to enjoy what you had with no expectations. But “no expectations” changed over the days, weeks, months to become a desire to be around each other more days than not. Visits in the dead of night became dates during the day, morphing into waking up in each other’s arms, eating breakfast together over the weekends, bedhead and sleepy eyes and warm smiles. He thinks about the way you make him laugh, head thrown back, with his whole chest. He thinks about your playful debates, the way you tease him when he loses to you in Mario Kart. He thinks about the way you writhe under, on top of, beside him as he draws pleasure from your body again and again, your moans and gasps creating the prettiest song he’s ever heard. Frankie thinks about your soul, your heart, your innate goodness, and then he thinks about how he can’t possibly deserve any more than you already give him, despite him realizing more every day that he can’t imagine his life without you.

Frankie’s mother clears her throat on the other end of the line, and he snaps back to the present moment.

“Francisco,” she says softly. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just tell her how you feel, and see where it takes you. If she's as special as you say she is, you're going to regret not saying anything.”

Frankie looks down at his boots, and then back at you. You smile at him from the bench, your sundress fluttering slightly in the breeze. “Mamá, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“If you want something, Francisco, go for it. I always told you that you need to be more confident in yourself.” Frankie’s mother sighs affectionately. “You have done so much for your career, for Isabella… you have more than made up for your transgressions, mijito. Do this one thing for yourself. Take the risk.”

He thinks back to the beginning of your relationship, when he said he didn’t want anything serious because he was focusing on his career and his daughter. Not only was he in a stable job with room for upward movement, and becoming the father that Isabella deserved, it was because of you that he was able to achieve his goals. You’ve always supported him, encouraged him, and given him reality checks when he needed it. Not once have you asked for more in the relationship, but he never felt like you had to. He was willing to give you that and so much more. He was nearly certain that you felt the same way about having each other as a more permanent part of your lives, but without ever asking the question directly, he couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t just all in his head.

Frankie swallows thickly. “You’re right,” he acquiesces. “I’ll talk to her soon, when the moment is right. I don’t want to lose her.”

His mother coos sweetly at him. “Now that’s the son I know and love! I’ll let you go have fun with your lady. I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too, Mamá,” Frankie whispers, and then ends the call. 

You’re people watching at the boardwalk as Frankie approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. There’s no surprise triggered by his arms around you, just a calm ease and warmth. He presses kisses into your hair and sighs deeply. Tipping your head to the side, you return the kisses up his arm and rub his knuckles with your thumbs.

“How’s your mamá?” you ask. 

“Good,” Frankie responds, “just checking in to make sure I was having fun on my vacation.” A sheepish grin blooms on his face. “Sorry you had to hear her scream about you.”

You snicker as you stand up from the bench. “Nah, it wasn’t my ear she yelled into… But I didn’t mind at all. It’s sweet how she checks up on you.”

He grins, lifting his cap briefly to run his fingers through his hair. “She knows how hard I’ve been working to make things right with my job, and with Isabella, and she’s been pushing me to take some time off.” He sighs, looking off into the distance, and you know him well enough to know he’s doubtful of his progress.

“You deserve it, Frankie,” you murmur to him, lacing your fingers with his. You both start strolling along the boardwalk again, Frankie looking deeply in thought. “You’re always so hard on yourself, and at the very least, you deserve some time off.”

Glancing over at him, your breath catches. Frankie’s already staring at you, curls wild in the sea breeze, brown eyes warm and sparkling. Suddenly your chest feels like it’s cracked open, warm and aching. You feel the spark in your heart, and you realize that your feelings may be more than a simple affection. You search Frankie’s eyes and you can see a steady hidden layer under the warmth of his gaze as he lifts your joined hands to his lips, kissing them softly. It makes your heart do somersaults, the deeper unspoken emotions that flickered across his irises. A deep devotion that tugs at your soul.

He deserves the world.

Frankie huffs a laugh, dropping his gaze. “Everyone seems to tell me that. Guess I should stop being so damn stubborn and start believing them.” You continue walking, Frankie swinging your hands between the two of you as you settle into comfortable silence.

This is more than lust and companionship, you think to yourself. The way he looks at you, touches you with such reverence. It goes deeper than respect and fondness. Only Joel had ever given you butterflies and yet here you are, a fluttering in your gut, foreign but familiar. But what does that mean for you and Joel? 

Can your heart love two people at once?

Whoa…. wait, “love”??

You push the thoughts away with a shake of your head, determined to be present in the moment with Frankie. Bumping gently into his shoulder to get his attention, you flash him a smile.

“Wanna see which one of us can win first at the dime toss game?” you ask Frankie, and his eyes crinkle at the corners the way you love so much when he smiles in return, his competitive streak flaring.

“Sweetness, I thought you’d never ask. Prepare to lose.”

After you absolutely demolish Frankie at the dime toss (he swears they rigged the bowls he was aiming for), you and Frankie hit the road towards the cute cottage you’d booked for the night. Among the draws was its proximity to good food while being simultaneously off the beaten path. You were dying to try the seafood restaurant nearby, which was recommended to Frankie by one of his coworkers.

Per usual for the northern California coast, the fog began to roll in from the beach, casting ghostly tendrils across the road. Fog was one of the things you missed most about home while in SoCal, where it was a rarity. You roll up the windows and flip on your seat heater with a content sigh, then drape your body over the center console to grab your oversized cardigan from the back. The move makes your short dress hike further up your thighs as you reach for the soft knit. Frankie glances in the rearview mirror, spotting a flash of the curve of your ass where it peeks out of your panties. The sight has him already hardening in his pants. A quiet groan rises from his throat involuntarily, and you smirk, knowing exactly what he’s reacting to. 

“God, hermosa, that fucking dress,” Frankie grits. “I’ve been half hard all day seeing you in it.” You say nothing, but look over at him, your smirk growing bigger as you recline the seat a bit more and stretch your body just so, making the light blue eyelet lace material ride higher up your thighs, which you spread lasciviously. 

“Oh?” you tease. “What are you going to do about it?” You see Frankie’s eyes flash with desire for a moment, but he works hard to keep his cool.

His hand inches up your inner thigh while he drives, teasing swirls with his fingertips across your soft skin. You pant quietly, your breasts heaving gently against the low, curved neckline, and bite back a whimper as more arousal pools in your cotton underwear. “Take off your panties,” Frankie gently commands.

Dragging the material down your hips and legs, you let your thighs part for him, inviting his touch. Frankie keeps his eyes on the road, calmly navigating towards a quiet backroad. His focused demeanor is a lie though; his increasingly rapid breathing is a dead giveaway. When his fingers brush against your drenched folds, he groans and grips the wheel tighter with his driving hand.

“Fuck, baby,” Frankie grits out. “You’re so fucking wet for me already.” His nimble fingers explore you, spreading the slick around, swiping a soft circle around the pearl of your clit. He plays with you, and you start to writhe. A smirk blooms on his face as he clocks your movement. Frankie loves teasing you like this, drawing things out until you buckle under the pressure of your mounting desires. But the throbbing of his cock and your soft mewling sounds are making him desperate. 

Frankie pulls the car over to a small lot connected to an overlook, its parking spaces empty since the vista point is shrouded in fog. Trees block the view of your parking spot to traffic on the road. He throws the car in park, ripping his seatbelt off, and pulls your face to his for a passionate kiss. Swallowing your moans with his lips, Frankie tangles his tongue with yours while his fingers grip the base of your skull. 

“You’re killing me with this slutty little sundress,” he pants, sliding his hand down to cup your naked sex. 

You let out a strangled cry. “Frankie, I need you.”

Frankie shushes you gently. “Get in the back, nenita. I’ve got you.” You comply, scrambling over the center console and pushing your back up against the door, legs spreading wide and fingers tracing your glistening folds. He feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get his mouth on you in the next twenty seconds. He gets out of the front seat, yanking open the driver’s side back door and shutting it behind him after he slides in towards you.

“Gonna suck on that sweet little clit of yours ‘til you scream,” Frankie growls as he crawls towards your body, pushing your knees further towards your torso so you’re opened up lewdly for him. He slides his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to wet them, slipping them out and immediately burying them to the second knuckle in your soft cunt. A high-pitched whine is ripped from your throat.

“Frankie!” you whine, eyebrows furrowing together as you lock eyes with him. The mocha richness of his eyes has given way to pits of nearly black desire, and he keeps them on you while he presses his tongue flat to your swollen clit. Your eyes roll back and you nearly scream in pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby, I’m gonna make you come so hard,” he murmurs into your drenched folds, and then buries his face into you. You weave your fingers into his fluffy curls, opening your eyes to watch him at work.

Frankie’s eyes slip closed as he rhythmically pumps his thick fingers in and out of your pussy, curving them slightly up to hit that magical spot you can never quite reach the same way as he does. He sucks your hardened clit into his mouth, nestling it between the cleft of his lower lip and an almost imperceptible divot in the center of his tongue. That sweet, talented tongue swirls in precise tiny circles with the perfect pressure, while continuing to suckle exactly how you like it. Joel may go down on you like nobody’s business, but Frankie has cunnilingus nearly down to a science. At this point, he knows the exact series of moves to bring you to orgasm, and how long it takes really just depends on how long he feels like eating pussy that day. Sometimes, he’ll lay with his face between your legs for hours.

And right now? Frankie seems to want to break his own record for how fast he can get you to come.

Within seconds, you feel your orgasm gathering in your muscles. The tight shimmer of pleasure reverberates across your skin, in your bones, through every cell in your body, suspended in time, just waiting for a release. Frankie feels you tightening on his fingers, and you swear you feel him smirk against your slick folds. He keeps going, never faltering his movements, as the feeling inside you builds.

“Frankie,” you whine again, your body starting to shake. It shouldn't be physically possible for him to get you there so fast, and yet you feel that bowstring drawing impossibly tense in your body. “Frankie, I’m gonna… I’m so….” you keen, high-pitched, your chest heaving fast. Frankie moans against your folds, pressing just a bit harder with his fingers, crooking them just right, and sucks your clit hard.

You’re lucky that the area is truly secluded, because the scream tearing out of your throat as you shatter in ecstasy is loud. Your thighs lock around Frankie’s head as he moans deeply into your pussy, drawing out your orgasm expertly. Slick weeps from your cunt, soaking his lips and chin, and he slurps down every drop. He slows and gentles his ministrations on your core until he feels your thighs relax. Pulling back, he gives your folds one last kiss before he moves up your body to hover over your face, admiring the flush lighting up your features. Frankie kisses you gently, and you cup his face with both hands.

“Sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted,” Frankie slurs, pussydrunk on you.

“God, you’re incredible,” you murmur against his lips, kissing him deeper, the taste of your own essence making you clench involuntarily. You can feel the thick, hard line of him against your thigh. Moaning, you press yourself into him. “Let me ride you, Francisco.” 

Frankie lets out a groan as he pulls you up. You rest your knees on the backseat, littering kisses over his face as he unbuttons and shoves his jeans and boxers down. His cock smacks his belly, precum smearing on his skin. Leaning over, you lick it off, his salty taste invading your senses. Frankie groans again when you suck him into your mouth. You gently lick his foreskin and pull it down to reveal his ruddy head, the tip leaking. Slurping and suckling, you sneak a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, the action not going unnoticed by Frankie. It seems to snap him out of his trance.

“I need to be inside you so badly,” he grits out, pulling you onto his lap. The skirt of your sundress flares over the both of you. Reaching down, he brushes his tip against your folds, making you both whine. Swirling it through your combined slick and spit, Frankie presses his head into you slowly. You take over, grabbing his hand to place it over your hip, and grind down on him, letting his length slip further and further into you. Your breath hitches as he spreads your walls, always a stretch no matter how many times you’ve taken him.

Frankie drops his head back against the headrest, his hands gripping you tightly. “You’re always so fucking tight for me, querida,” he pants, his eyes glazing over with lust. His words prompt another wave of slick to leak out of you, aiding your descent down his shaft as you swirl your cunt around him. Both of you moan, and soon enough you’re fully seated on him. You lean down, kissing him passionately, and he responds in kind, slipping his tongue into your mouth to massage against yours. Your hips begin to roll and Frankie breaks the kiss, a deep rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his chest.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s like hot velvet,” he grits out, grabbing your hips to buck up into you. He trails kisses down your jaw and leaves little love bites as he goes. The car is filled with the slap of flesh, the squelch of your cunt as you fuck yourself on his cock, your shared gasps and panted breaths. Frankie slips the straps of your dress down, pulling down the cups with it, your breasts spilling out of their confines. He ducks his head down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. You whimper.

“God, Francisco,” you whine, riding him harder, spurred on by the way he laves his tongue over your pebbled nipple, gently catching and pulling it between his teeth. He switches to your other breast, his other hand anchored to your hip to guide your motions. His cock kisses that spot deep in you that only Frankie and Joel have ever found, and the feeling rips another moan from you. 

“That’s it, fucking ride my cock,” Frankie pants. You lean forward, changing the angle a bit until your clit catches on his belly, which triggers your pussy to clench in pleasure. 

“Oh god, you feel so fucking good in me,” you moan, grinding down harder onto him, massaging your walls with his thick shaft and your clit with the friction of his course hairs. “You fill me up so well.”

“Softest, wettest pussy I’ve ever fucked, I swear,” Frankie slurs, losing himself in the feeling of you wrapped around his length. “You feel like silk on me, nenita.”

Your clit swells with the stimulation of every roll of your hips, making your cunt clench around Frankie. He lets out a whine. Your brows furrow in concentration as you seat his length in you as far as it will go, and he nearly chokes when he feels his tip kiss your cervix.

“You’re so deep in me,” you moan, working yourself on his shaft. “Tell me how good this pussy feels.” You’re desperate to hear him lose it.

“You feel amazing,” he whines, his dick hardening and swelling even more as he approaches his high. It feels like he’s lighting up every nerve ending inside of you. At this point, Frankie’s lap is dripping with your arousal, slick squelching and slapping sounds as thick in the air as the smell of sex. Both of you are covered in a sheen of sweat. You can tell he’s getting closer, so you start fucking him harder, driving his cock deeply into you, to the point where you feel like you’re beginning to meld together, a writhing, wet, hot mess of pleasure.

“Yeah?” you ask rhetorically, riding him harder and harder. “Are you going to come for me, Francisco?” You continue to use his full name, knowing how much it turns him on when you say it. “I want you to fuck me so full of your cum; I wanna be dripping for days. I want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Oh fuck, nenita,” Frankie whines as he loses himself in your heat. “I’m gonna fuck you so full. Gonna give you all of my cum. Gonna put it right where it belongs, deep in this cunt.” You roll your hips harder, your tits bouncing with the effort, and Frankie fucking whimpers. Your pussy tightens at the sound. It always turns you on so much when he loses control.

“Do it, Francisco. Fill me up,” you pant, your own orgasm barrelling towards you. Frankie’s thighs begin to quiver under you, and you know he’s almost there, too. You grip the base of his skull with one hand while the other steadies yourself on his shoulder, and then you lean down, nipping his earlobe. He whimpers again, completely fucked out.

“Come for me, now,” you beg in a whisper.

Frankie shouts as his grip on you turns to steel, and at the first hot spurt of his cum inside of you, your orgasm rips through you. Your cunt clenches, prolonging his pleasure, as your release soaks Frankie’s lap and his cum paints your insides. You both cry out at the feeling, foreheads pressed together. Frankie leans in and latches his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss.

As you both come down from your highs, you lean into Frankie, and he rubs his hands along your back soothingly. The softest kisses pepper your face, your sweat cooling down your skin while you both heave breaths, trying to recover. You weave your fingers into Frankie’s damp curls and scratch his scalp.

“Couldn’t wait ‘til we got to the rental, huh?” you quip.

Frankie huffs a laugh and hums in pleasure at your ministrations on his scalp. “Not when you tempt me with those dresses, baby. You know what flashing me a peek under your skirt does to me.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” you tease, nipping his ear.

He jerks away at the ticklish sensation, then gently bites your shoulder in retribution. “Such a tease, hermosa,” he tuts. You both begin to untangle your sweat-slick limbs, and you slip yourself off of Frankie’s cock, groaning quietly in contentment as you stem the flow of his spend from your pussy with your fingers, shuffling around, seeking your panties. Finding them in the front seat, you slip them on, pressing the fabric into your cunt to keep yourself full of Frankie. Both of you get back into the front seats.

You fix your hair as you settle back in but pause, looking up to see your boyfriend staring at you, an achingly soft expression painting his whole face. Amber eyes, golden flecked irises, striking deep to your soul.

Breath catching in your throat, vulnerability rolling through your nerves. That flutter in your heart once again.

Before you can process anything, Frankie shakes his head slightly, as if emerging from a daze. “Well I’ve certainly worked up an appetite,” he quips, squeezing your knee gently. “Let’s get some of that clam chowder.” You nod, breathing deeply and shoot him a crooked little smile. He intertwines his fingers with yours, and then puts the Jeep into gear.

A couple hours later, you arrive at the rental, Frankie bringing both of your bags in. You close the door behind the two of you, kicking off your shoes, and survey the place. A small kitchenette to the left, cute velour loveseat to the right, and through adorable French doors, the king size bed, dressed in the fluffiest looking bedding. A dresser and full-length gilded mirror complete the decor in the bedroom, everything fitting perfectly into a cottagecore dream aesthetic. The last of the natural lighting filters through the windows.

Frankie drops a quick kiss to your forehead. “I need to scrub off the road,” he says in passing while stripping off his clothes. “Why don’t you relax a bit before we decide what we’re doing for the rest of the night?”

You snort out a laugh. “Frankie, it’s not like we’re on the Oregon Trail in a covered wagon. We’ve been driving in an air-conditioned car, Mr. Drama Queen.” He laughs and tosses his hat at you, disappearing into the en suite bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Settling into the plush bed, you set Frankie’s hat on the dresser and grab your phone to catch up on messages missed during the drive, when suddenly your phone starts buzzing. Joel’s name flashes onto the screen, and you hit the green button to accept the video call.

“Hey, baby,” you coo, grinning widely as Joel’s handsome tan face appears on your screen. His umber & silver hair is damp and slicked back, likely fresh out of the shower just like Frankie will be in a few minutes. The headboard of the bed you share with Joel sits behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?”

Joel chuckles. “What, can’t a man call his pretty wife just to see her face and tell her that he loves her?”

You giggle. “I suppose that’s a good enough reason.” His eyes soften, and then flick down the screen.

“I see you’re wearing that sundress I like so much,” Joel muses. 

You smile, extending the arm holding your phone so he can see more of your body. “Oh, this little number?” You shift onto your knees, spreading them wide and running your other hand teasingly slow from your collarbone, down the slope of your breast, across your waist, and then down your thigh, retracing your path slightly to lift the hem of the skirt. “Frankie hadn’t seen it before, and he likes it just as much as you do.” Your cheeks flush at the memory of Frankie taking you in the car, and Joel hums lowly when you break eye contact with him.

“Did you and Frankie get up to some fun earlier, baby?” You pause, unsure of where this is going, and then nod your head.

“Words, sweetheart,” Joel reminds you.

“Yes, Joel,” you whisper breathlessly. 

He nods approvingly, a small smirk gracing his plush lips. “I could tell, you got that faraway look in your eyes like you do when you’re thinking about me fucking you.” Joel shifts his seat on the bed, and you recognize the movement as a sign that he’s getting turned on. This is a new development, you think to yourself. He’s rarely asked about sex with Frankie before. 

“Did Frankie treat your pussy right? Did he fill you up?” You nod again, your core beginning to pulse as you affirm with your words, and Joel groans.

“Let me see it.”

You choke on your breath. “What?”

This was not something Joel had ever asked before.

“You heard me, darlin’,” Joel asserts, his eyes darkening. “Let me see that pretty pussy full of Frankie’s cum.”

A full-body shiver ripples through you. “Yes, Joel,” you murmur obediently, sliding off the bed to retrieve the phone stand you use often when you’re away from Joel. You set it up on the dresser near the bed, the front-facing camera angled advantageously for him while allowing you to see him as well. Coming back into frame, you slowly unzip your dress, letting it fall to the floor. You slide your damp panties down, the heady scent of Frankie’s cum wafting up from your heated core. Joel leans back and lets out a low groan. 

You climb back onto the bed once naked, noticing Joel’s espresso brown eyes have deepened to the color of a moonless night, his pupils dilated in desire. Putting your back to the camera, you get onto your hands and knees, canting your hips forward and ass back. You rest your forearms on the bed, looking back at the camera, and snake one hand between your legs to spread your pussy open with your fingers. Joel moans unabashedly at the view, your glazed pussy glinting in the light, Frankie’s milky spend coating it and gathering at your opening. He watches as your cunt clenches at the sound.

“Fuuuuuck, darlin’, that little pussy always looks so fuckin’ good when it’s covered in cum, don’t it?” Joel asks rhetorically, running one hand down his chin through his greying scruff. You whimper in response, the movement of your contracting walls pushing a thin stream of Frankie’s cum out from deep in you, dripping onto the bed sheets. This feels so debauched, filthy, and you are incredibly turned on by Joel’s response to the sight of another man’s cum decorating your most intimate parts. 

“God, if I was there I would be rubbin’ that cream all over your swollen little clit,” Joel drawls. “Can see her peekin’ out at me. Can you flip over? Wanna see you touch her for me.” You oblige, gathering the pillows to prop yourself up, and lean back against them as you butterfly your thighs open for your husband. Holding his gaze, you slowly trace your outer lips with your fingers, feeling the slide of Frankie’s spend lubricate your movements. You swirl your fingertips through the mess of slick and cum at your entrance, then glide them up to the pearl of your clit, throbbing in anticipation. At the first touch, your breath catches on the edge of a jagged little moan. 

“So sensitive already?” Joel teases, and you see him shift in his seat at the same time that the rustle of his pants tells you he’s pulling them down. The thought of him needing to touch himself at the sight of your messy cunt makes a pang of need course through your core. 

“Let me see it, baby,” you whisper hoarsely towards the phone, desperate to see the physical proof of his desire for you, for the sight of Frankie’s desire for you. The frame jostles a bit as Joel sets his phone up on the phone stand you have in your bedroom for times like these. It’s not the first time you have had video sex while apart and it certainly won’t be the last. 

And as Joel walks backwards toward the bed again and into frame, you barely stifle a gasp.

His cock is an absolute marvel, still is after a decade of being together. Thick, long, and uncut, the sight of him always makes your mouth water and your pussy slick. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, stroking his length languidly, the gleaming cockhead a flushed pink, disappearing and reappearing from under his foreskin. His gray, worn sweatpants are pulled just under his ass. Heavy, sizable balls drape over the waistband. You’ll never get tired of the sight.

“See somethin’ y’like, angel?”’Joel teases, his Texas twang always thicker when he’s aroused. His thick thighs are spread wide as he sits on the bed.

“Yes… everything,” you breathe, starting to rub your pussy again. 

“Nuh-uh,” Joel tuts, and your fingers immediately stop. “I didn’t tell you that you could touch yourself. Let’s wait until Frankie can join us to have fun.” Your body flushes with more arousal; Joel’s never asked to include Frankie before. But then again, you’d never asked if he wanted to.

As if on cue, the bathroom door squeaks open and Frankie appears, freshly showered, dark curls dripping a bit onto his broad, golden shoulders. A white towel is wrapped around his narrow waist, and he takes a moment to assess what he’s walked into.

“Babygirl, are you getting started without me?” Frankie purrs as he strides towards you, then pauses when he realizes your phone is on the stand and positioned right at your dripping cunt.

“Hey, Frankie,” Joel’s voice floats warmly into the room. “I figured you’d want to watch our girl play with herself, so I made her wait.”

Our girl.

You shiver in arousal — and something else — at the moniker. Your eyes flick to Frankie, a smirk beginning to grace his lips but a bit of hesitation in his eyes. This was all new to him, too.

Frankie moves towards the armchair situated in the corner of the room, behind where you had your phone set up. He was already adjusting himself, clearly aroused, which you took as a good sign.

“Frankie, are you okay with this?” you inquire, trying to gauge his consent to what was unfolding. “If not, I can —“

“Yes,” Frankie grits out hoarsely. “I want to watch you with Joel.” His tone sets off another wave of pleasure through your nerves.

Joel chuckles, his voice smooth and deep as whiskey. “Well, darlin’, give us a show. Go on ‘n pet that pretty lil’ pussy for us.” Planting your heels on the bed, you use your fingers to spread yourself open as another trickle of Frankie’s previous release leaks its way out of you. Both men groan at the sight. Scooping it up, you glide your way up to your throbbing clit, starting to circle it just the way you like. A moan leaves your parted lips; you tilt your head back while you work yourself. Your other hand moves to pinch and thumb a nipple, drawing it into a tight bud.

“Mmm, good girl,” Joel praises you. His hand starts pumping his cock once again at the same time Frankie palms himself through the fluffy towel. Frankie’s eyes flick from you to the phone, still trying to feel out the dynamics of the three of you. But both men can’t keep their eyes away from your soft pussy and swollen clit, glazed in your arousal and Frankie’s cum. Holding both of them in rapture while seeking your own pleasure is a heady power trip that wraps its silken claws into your brain. 

You feel like a goddess.

“Joel,” you moan, writhing in pleasure on the bed, but not quite where you want to be. “I need more.”

“Tell me what you want, darlin’,” Joel croons through the phone, the soft fapping sound of him working his cock audible. 

“I want… more,” you whine, mind so hazy with pleasure that you can’t even articulate your desires. “Please.”

“Hmmm,” Joel responds, slowing down to consider his options. You look up in impatience just as a wicked smirk crosses his face.

That look always means trouble. 

“Y’told me how good Frankie is at goin’ down on you,” Joel continues, “so why don’t you let him show me?” You hear Frankie’s breath choke in his throat in surprise as a whimper escapes your lips at Joel’s words. Frankie’s eyes dart from yours to the phone and back. 

“Frankie?” you hear Joel say while your eyes remain on your boyfriend. “Would you be okay with that? Would you show me how hard you make our girl come with that tongue’a yours?” You let out a little moan at Joel’s filthy words, and Frankie groans involuntarily at the sight of another dribble of his cum escaping your pussy.

“Oh, baby, you’re still drippin’?” Joel coos at you. “Frankie must’a stuffed you so full’a his cum. Do you like eating yourself outta her sweet cunt, Frankie?”

In a flash, Frankie enters the frame as he spreads your legs further apart and wedges his shoulders between them, leaving enough space for Joel to watch the action behind him. “I fucking love it,” Frankie growls in response, immediately running his tongue in a broad stripe from the bottom of your slit to your clit, tasting himself and you as he swallows every drop of cum and slick you released. You throw your head back, keening.

“Damn,” you hear Joel choke out, his hand moving faster on his cock at the sight of Frankie diving headfirst into your cunt. Eager to prove his skills, Frankie works you up rapidly to your orgasm, your moans pitching higher and higher within a minute. He swirls his tongue over your clit, then slides two of his fingers inside to the last knuckle, aided by your copious slick and the remnants of his cum. Your back arches off the bed from the sensation as you cry out his name.

“Oh fuck, angel,” Joel grits out, his breath coming faster. “He eatin’ you good?”

“Yessss, Joel,” you whimper, your hand holding Frankie’s head firmly to your center. “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

Frankie moans encouragingly, reverberating across your cunt, and the tether inside your core snaps. You stutter out a groan, punctuated each time your pussy spasms with your release on Frankie’s fingers. The man between your thighs laps it all up, moaning in delight. He pulls back, kissing the inside of each thigh, and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Good fucking girl,” Joel purrs at you as you catch your breath. You hear a slightly pained groan, and look at the screen to see Joel gripping the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. Hmm, that’s odd, you think. Joel usually comes when he’s decided he’s done making me come.

The realization hits you a split second before Joel’s deep, commanding voice spits out, “Again, Morales.”

Ohhhh, fuck.

You whip your head around when you hear Frankie suck in a breath as he stares at the phone, his chest heaving. Looking down, you see his cock achingly hard under his towel, his neck flushed with arousal. Frankie turns to you, his onyx eyes shimmering ferally. You know following orders gets him going, but you’re surprised that Joel clocked that about him instinctively.

In a split second, Frankie’s spread both of your legs again, pinning you open obscenely wide by your thighs. His tongue immediately begins to fuck into your pussy, the strong muscle prodding and curling just right. Your head slams into the soft mattress, a squeal leaving your lips at the sudden pleasure. With every thrust of his tongue, you feel Frankie grinding desperately into the bed, trying to stem the intense arousal building below his waist.

“Talk to me, darlin’,” Joel’s voice floats in your ear, pulling you out of the cloud of intense pleasure momentarily. “Tell me how good Frankie feels.”

“He’s so good,” you moan, alternating playing with your nipples and curling your fingers in the bedding. “His tongue feels so good in my pussy.”

“Is he as good as me?” Joel asks, his voice dropping an octave. There’s not a hint of jealousy, just charged curiosity.

“Yes, baby,” you coo, gasping as Frankie moves his tongue back to your clit and slides his fingers back into you, reaching that spot deep in you that makes your eyes roll back. “So good. Just… different.”

Joel lets out a quiet growl, his voice dripping with sex. “Good. Your pussy deserves the best.”

“Frankie,” Joel commands. Frankie lifts his head from your center, moving his thumb to replace his tongue on your clit, making your back arch again. “Have you made her squirt before?”

“Yeah,” Frankie breathes, looking back at you. “She’s so beautiful when she does it.”

“Good,” Joel rumbles. “Make her squirt for us.”

Frankie nods once, then pulls his fingers out slightly until he hits the spongy spot near the entrance of your pussy. He starts swirling the tips of his fingers against it, pressing his other hand down gently but firmly on your lower belly above your pubic bone, and then lowers his head to suck your clit back into his mouth. You keen, your body folding in on itself from the intense pleasure. Frankie moans into you, but you hear a growl rip from Joel’s throat.

“Don’t you dare hide that beautiful body,” Joel demands. “Lay back and spread your legs for us.”

You comply, barely able to shift yourself open again before Frankie starts intensifying his ministrations. You hear Joel’s slick fist jerking his cock again while he coos at you and praises you, telling you how good you’re being for him and Frankie, how pretty and strong you are.

“You can take it, angel,” Joel moans with the squelching of his cock in his hand acting as an obscene background track for your pleasure. “You’re close, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimper, your cunt making equally debauched sounds with every thrust of Frankie’s fingers. “I’m so close. Feels so fucking good.”

Frankie presses harder on your belly and sucks your clit more fervently, and your cries pitch higher. “Oh god, Frankie, you’re gonna make me come,” you whine, toes curling and thighs beginning to shake. A desperate moan from Frankie’s mouth is muffled by your cunt, making you cry out again.

“Let go for us, darlin’,” Joel grits out, his hand a blur on the screen as he approaches his orgasm as well. 

Frankie peels himself away from your drenched folds just long enough to command, “Come for us, now,” and then latches back onto your clit, sucking hard, and that’s the moment you break, nearly screaming. Frankie works you through the first wave of your orgasm with his mouth, then pulls back, slipping his fingers out of you as your release gushes out, spraying your belly, thighs, and Frankie’s torso. With every pump and slide out of your pussy, Frankie brings forth another spray of release, drenching your body and his. 

You’re barely aware of Joel’s groans of pleasure in the throes of your own, but when you come back down moments later, you can hear the edge of desperation in his sounds. You look over to the phone to see him with his teeth bared, the head of his cock an angry red, his fist slick with precum and spit. More pearly liquid slowly oozes from the slit at the top.

Joel is barely keeping it together.

“Joel, honey,” you moan, “I wanna see you come.”

Joel growls. “Francisco,” he grits out. Frankie, who’s looking at you in amazement and pride, snaps his head to the phone at the sound of his full name. You see his cock twitch under the towel.

“Get our girl messy, Francisco.”

A whimper worms its way out of your throat as Frankie whines. Unashamed and blind with arousal, he whips the towel off his waist and his cock bobs, hard and thick. You hear Joel’s breath hitch. I’ll tuck that reaction away for later, you think. 

Frankie kneels between the damp sheets under your thighs, spitting into his hand and fisting his cock hard and fast. His muscles flex with the intensity of feeling, breathing rapid. His grunts get louder and longer as he swiftly approaches his peak. You hear a long, low moan from the phone, Joel nearly delirious with how worked up he is over the scene playing out.

“Where?” Frankie moans, desperately trying to follow orders before he blows his load. Precum drips onto the sheets.

“Her tits,” Joel pants, “and her pussy. Paint her like a fucking picture, Frankie.”

“Oh fffuuuu—“ Frankie grits out just before he explodes, his release shooting out onto your nipples, the curves of your breasts, and then he’s aiming lower, coating your mound and pussy lips with his seed.

You’re dripping with yourself and Frankie, an absolutely debauched sight.

Suddenly you hear a shout from the phone, and turn just in time to see Joel shoot his load all over his chest, belly, and even some on his neck with how hard he’s coming. Every spurt paired with a moan; one of the prettiest sights you’ve ever seen in your life. 

For a moment all you hear is the shared heavy breathing of yourself, your boyfriend, and your husband, and then Frankie is kissing your forehead, your lips, and then working his way down your body. When he goes to lick off his cum from your tits to clean you up, you groan in protest.

“Too sensitive, baby,” you plead, and Frankie acquiesces, cooing at you. 

“You did so well for us, nenita,” he soothes, stroking your face and planting kisses across your eyelids. “You’re so beautiful. Let me rinse off and get you cleaned up, okay?” With your mind pleasantly fuzzy from what just transpired, you simply nod, and Frankie goes into the bathroom for supplies. You let your head roll to the side, and smile tiredly at Joel, who’s watching you with pride and love while he towels off his release from his body and hands.

“I would have licked up all that cum off you to save you from having to add another towel to the laundry,” you giggle, feeling your own juices and Frankie’s cum cooling on your torso. You run your fingers through the slick release Frankie left on your pussy, teasing your clit with the silky fluid. Your body shudders a bit with overstimulation, and Joel shakes his head.

“You just like makin’ a mess and then cleanin’ it up, you dirty girl,” he chuckles, watching you enjoy the tactile sensations.

“Stop pretending that you don’t like me like that, Joel,” you fire back with a smirk. “What is it you said exactly? Oh, right. ‘Get our girl messy, Francisco.’” You imitate Joel’s baritone, making him bark out a laugh. 

“Fine, I do love seeing you drippin’, darlin’,” Joel admits. “Whether it’s my cum or Frankie’s.” You bite your lip and giggle, basking in the glow of this new era of your relationship with Joel. You didn’t expect he’d be so enthusiastic to see you with Frankie.

The door pops open, Frankie emerging with a warm, damp washcloth for you. Although you reach for it, he tuts and gently pushes your hand away, insisting on wiping you down himself. He gently strokes the cloth across your skin, softly smiling and pressing kisses to your face and body as he does. Joel’s heart warms at the sight before him, seeing how well Frankie takes care of you.

Tossing the cloth back into the bathroom, Frankie gets up from the bed. “I’m going to get some water for us. Do you want cold water to help you cool down, or your usual water cocktail?” Frankie asks, always remembering your quirky penchant for filling your insulated water bottle first with hot water until halfway, and the rest with cold. 

“Water cocktail, please,” you giggle, snuggling further into the bedding.

Frankie grins, then lightly kisses your forehead, grabbing your water bottle off the bedside table in the process. He walks out, and you sigh contentedly.

“Wow, Frankie automatically includes Water Cocktail on his drink menu now, huh?” Joel chuckles.

You nod happily, grinning ear to ear. Laying your head on the pillow, you respond, “Yeah, he caught on fast. I think it was after the third week of seeing each other that he started asking if I wanted it instead of bringing me a glass of cold water. I didn’t even tell him explicitly, he just noticed me doing it.” You pause, brain pleasantly fuzzy in your post-orgasmic state. 

“I… I really like him, Joel,” you whisper, slowly fading as sleep creeps to you. You blink your eyes gently at Joel, who looks at you with the softest smile on his face, like you are the linchpin of his universe. 

“I know, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his heart flipping in response. “I know.”

When Frankie re-enters the room with a glass of water and your water bottle, he notices how quiet it is. You lay burrowed under the covers, gently snoring, but he notices your phone is the only one on the video call anymore. His nerves zap a bit in concern, but then he replays the recent events back in his head. Joel seemed totally tolerant - nay, enthusiastic, to include Frankie into sex earlier. He doubts Joel left because he was upset; you probably fell asleep and he needed to go. Nonetheless, Frankie pics up your phone and exits the call, tapping around until he finds your message app.

Hey, that was really fun, he types out to Joel, a tiny flutter of nerves alight in his stomach. Excited to meet you tomorrow. Have a good rest of your night. – Frankie 

Staring at the words for a moment, he hits send before he can back out or second guess himself. Frankie then climbs into bed, wrapping himself around you before sleep claims him wholly.

a/n part 2: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for your patience! I had so much fun writing it and I’m proud to be able to share it with you. For those of you not familiar with Southern/Central CA, you can view photo references here: the Santa Cruz carousel, Hearst Castle, info on Ojai, and kayaking in Morro Bay.

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[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[milla-frenchy]

The date

5k0 | Joel Miller x fem reader ; Frankie Morales x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: you’re in an established relationship with Frankie and both of you want to spice things up. You meet a man via a dating app, Joel

Warnings: 18+ mdni. cuckolding, cucking chair, fingering, public fingering, masturbation (m), dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, oral (m/f), ball sucking, piv, rimming, anal play, creampie No age specified

a/n: @aurorawritestoescape thank you so, so much as always, for beta-ing and everything, baby 💕😘 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The meeting was set for 6pm at a bar in Austin.

Frankie and you had been a couple for several years, and you wanted to spice things up. The idea of watching you ​being fucked by another man was turning him on since he playfully brought up the idea while you were fucking, his cock brushing your g spot. 

Taunting you that you would probably like to take a cock other than his and how beautiful you would look, spread by another shaft. How proud of you he would be if he could watch you, knowing that even in that moment, you would still be his, maybe more than ever. The way you had come instantly on his cock had made him spill his cum deep inside you in the second that followed. 

Since then, he whispered it to you regularly, in the hollow of your ear, or with his eyes fixed on yours. Just to feel you clench on his shaft. He also said it while caressing your tear-soaked cheek, his fat cock reaching the back of your throat. 

Until he really suggested to share you with another man. You carefully looked at him, to detect the slightest trace of a joke that did not exist. He suggested it timidly, but the idea of fucking another man in front of him, the fact that he wanted to watch it, was really turning you on. You loved that your man, who could sometimes be reserved, was so sure of himself, of your relationship. He wasn’t afraid to lose you, he knew what he meant to you and that no one could take you away from him.

So you discussed it thoroughly, until finally signing up on a dating app.

You were now waiting at the bar for the man you matched with (“cuckolding, man in his 40s, dirty talk appreciated, dom vibes”).

“Good evening,” you heard while you were kissing, sitting at the table. You looked up, and there he was. Joel Miller.

You had been breathless when you looked at his pictures on the app, just as you were now, meeting  him. His gaze was deep. His brown eyes, his face were beautiful. His beard was slightly covered with gray hair. His green flannel shirt accentuated his broad shoulders. His voice was warm, drawling. Hot.

Joel shaked Frankie's hand, then he nodded and smiled at you. A smile you returned shyly. Frankie invited him to sit at your table, and the conversation flowed immediately. Joel was no stranger to that type of gathering, while it was your first time. He was single, worked in construction, and he lived in Austin too.

The purpose of the meeting in that bar was to see if there was a connection between you. If you were attracted to him, if Frankie trusted him, and if Joel wanted to go further. You sometimes looked at his neck, his forearms, his prominent veins, his hands. His thick fingers. His attitude exuded quiet strength, and self-confidence.

You had agreed online that he could touch you at the bar, if the attraction between you was there. After the three of you drank your first shot, he brushed your back with his large hand, before resting it on your lower back. His caress was light but firm, and you felt shivers run down your spine. 

His eyes landed on Frankie, to check if he was still okay with it. He nodded. Seeing you being seduced by that man was already turning him on and he was getting hard.

Joel placed his hand on your bare knee, your skirt hiked up your thighs, just after Frankie said something funny that made you laugh.

“I love that little laugh, it’s really cute. It’s one of the things that is gonna get you fucked tonight. That and these hips that are just begging to be grabbed, sweetheart.”

You held your breath when you heard him. Your panties were soaked even though he had barely touched you.

His hand slipped between your thighs, and glided to your panties which he delicately pushed aside. His middle finger ran over your wet folds and you couldn’t stop a moan from escaping your lips.

“Quiet. Don’t want a sound here, keep your moans for the bedroom,” he said firmly as his middle finger found its way between your walls. Your pussy clenched on his finger as you squirmed on your stool, and he smirked.

“Curling your toes already? Oh, sweetheart… you’re never gonna forget this night.”

He brushed your folds one last time and removed his finger, leaving you panting. You looked at Frankie, surprised by the effect the man already had on you. Frankie was just as astonished as you, but you could see how much he enjoyed it. His eyes were sparkling and he adjusted himself.

Joel didn’t touch you anymore for the rest of the time you spent at the bar. Frankie and him talked like old friends, and all you could hear was your pussy squealing with excitement. 

When Joel was looking at you, you felt yourself losing your composure. If he saw it, he didn't show it, until a little smirk proved to you that he just didn't want to make you uncomfortable, which you appreciated.

You couldn’t wait for the three of you to leave, but you didn’t want to seem too greedy - as if you hadn’t already spread your legs and moaned for him.

An hour later, you finally left the bar. Frankie and you in your car, Joel following in his. You had decided that it would happen in your house. You didn't want to be in a cold, unfamiliar place.

As soon as you entered, Joel wasted no time.

“Let’s check on the rules. Frankie, if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop, no questions asked.” Then he turned to you “what’s your safe word, sweetheart?”

“I’ll use “red” if I want you to stop. “Orange”, if I want you to slow down.”

“Okay. If you use either of those words, depending on the color I’ll stop, or slow down, no questions asked. I want you to know that you have to use them if you don’t feel comfortable. Are we clear?”

“Yes, all clear.” His expression was serious and solemn, and it reassured you, even though Frankie was going to be there the whole time.

“If you don't use them, I'll consider that you're ok with what I'm doing. Do you agree?”

You nodded. 

“I need to hear it out loud.”

“Yes, I agree.”

He turned to Frankie.

“Yeah, ok with that.”

Joel looked at you again, and added “and if your mouth's full, tap on my thigh twice.”

You felt heat on your cheeks hearing the implication of his words, and said “Ok, I'll tap on your thigh twice. What… What do I call you?”

“Well, my name’s Joel, and I’m fine with that,” he answered with a cute smile.

You took a deep breath and then added “Ok, follow me to the bedroom then, Joel.”

An armchair was set up near the bed, and Frankie sat down in it, as planned. You had also agreed that he would barely intervene, so as not to influence what would happen.

Joel rolled up his shirt sleeves. His charm and aura were devastating.

You felt intimidated, being in your room with the two men. With your boyfriend, sitting in that chair, facing the man who was going to fuck you soon.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Joel asked in a calm voice.

“Yeah…yes, I’m ready.”

He moved closer to you and grabbed your waist. His mustache ran along the warm skin of your ear, your cheek, your neck. Then he placed his lips on yours, kissing you lightly. Testing the way you would respond. Your lips pressed against his, and he held you closer to him, one arm around your waist. His tongue caressed your lips softly, gently and you parted them, freeing your tongue to meet his and creating a sensual dance. His lips were warm and your mind was lost for a few moments, as you kissed a man other than Frankie for the first time in several years. His hands roamed your body, one brushing your back covered with your top, the other squeezing your waist against him, against his cock that you felt hardening. You moaned, feeling the moisture flow between your walls, your lips still against his, your tongue in his mouth, until you pulled away slightly to catch your breath, your bodies remaining pressed against each other.

“Show me how wet you are, feeling my cock against you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, before you caught yourself. That’s what you were here for. To have sex with someone else, a stranger, who would probably act differently than Frankie. You wanted someone confident. And that’s exactly the type of man you were facing. He wasn't aggressive, he knew how to make you feel confident. He was perfect so far.

You pulled away from him a little more, just to slide your hand under the hem of your skirt and panties. You slid your fingers along your folds and then pushed two of them into your pussy, to coat them with your wetness. You pulled your trembling hand out, holding it up near your face. Your digits were shiny. Joel gripped your wrist softly and brought it close to his mouth, and took your fingers between his lips. He licked your wetness, his eyes fixed on you. It was so hot and sensual that another flow soaked your panties. 

He released your wrist, once your skin no longer bore the trace of your arousal, and he unbuttoned his shirt before placing it on the dresser in your room. He then removed his t-shirt, taking his time. Aware of your gaze fixed on him, and of each new inch of skin he was offering you.

“You're dripping since the time I fingered you at the bar in front of your man, aren't you?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Now… You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“On your knees, then.”

You didn't wait any longer, you couldn't wait to see his cock, to take him in your mouth, to taste him. You kneeled in front of him, then looked at Frankie. Joel lifted your chin while he unzipped, wanting your eyes on him only.

“I wanna see how pretty you look with your lips around my cock, baby”, he said, brushing your chin with his thumb. He released it to grab his cock resting in his jeans. 

You knew he was big, thanks to the pictures he sent you at your request. But you didn’t expect him to be that big. So thick and long. You had never seen a cock as big as Frankie’s. Joel’s seemed slightly shorter, but a little thicker. Your thoughts drifted, wondering how it would feel if they both fucked you at the same time. Joel’s voice interrupted your train of thought.

“Focus on me, and open up. Wide, or it ain't gonna fit, baby.”

You opened your mouth, parting your lips. He wanted to be in charge and you willingly let him lead. He pressed his tip to your lips then said “tongue.”

You darted it out, and he rested his cock on it. His thickness felt heavy. Then he placed his hand on the back of your head, keeping his shaft in the other one, before sliding it between your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frankie grab his bulge, then unzip his jeans, and finally pull his cock out.

“Eyes on me when I fuck your mouth, baby. Your man’s gonna jerk off soon, and you’ll hear his wrist fuck his shaft. You can listen to it, but your eyes stay on me, clear?”

You nodded as he thrust deeper between your lips, and you moaned.

“I know baby, I know. You're gonna be a good girl, and you’re gonna let me fuck that hole. And then, I’ll fuck the next one.”

You heard Frankie mumble “fuck,” and Joel thrust his length into your mouth. He used your mouth like he promised you, like a fuck hole. He wasn't aggressive, just in charge, self-confident. He knew how to deal with you, and it was turning you on.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Sucking this big cock? I can see that your man has a thick dick too. You like sucking his dick as much as you enjoy sucking mine, sweetheart?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. He didn’t want, or didn’t need to. Instead, he squeezed your throat in his large palm, feeling his shaft slide into it.

“You take it so good, baby. I can’t wait to see how your pussy takes me.”

He held your head with both hands as his cock was buried deep in your throat, and told you “don’t move. Stay like that. Just take it.”

You tried to pull back but he held you down, saying in a calm voice “breathe through your nose, sweetheart. You can do it.” He loosened his grip slightly, long enough to feel your throat adjust to his cock, then added, “yeah, just like that. You’re doing great.”

He released you, letting you take control for a few seconds. The accumulated saliva flowed down to your chin. 

Then he fucked your mouth, alternating rhythms. Taking advantage of the warmth of your mouth for a long time, all the way to your throat, then fucking your mouth quickly. Sometimes making his length weigh on your tongue. Your jaw was sore, but you didn't want it to stop, intoxicated by the taste of his precum, by the width of his cock. Never ceasing to imagine how he was going to fuck you.

Sometimes, when you weren’t completely focused on Joel, you could hear Frankie jerking off, and mumbling “fuck” or “you’re so hot, baby” a few times. 

Your pussy was clenching regularly, eager to be filled. But Joel was taking his time.

“Lick my balls now. Let’s see if you’re as good at that as you’re at sucking my cock.”

He was so good at praising you that you felt like you would agree to anything he would ask you.

He held his shaft in his hand, and brushed his balls soaked with your saliva with the other. They were weighty, thick and fell heavily when he released them. Looking up at him, you licked one ball then the other, before taking each one of them in your mouth. Sucking, licking their thin, delicate skin. Releasing them with a “pop”. He growled, enjoying your tongue and lips on his balls full of cum.

“Ok, that’s it, sweetheart. Take off your clothes, now. Lemme see how pretty you are.” 

He removed his jeans and boxers, while you took off your blouse and skirt, standing shyly in front of him. “You’re beautiful, baby. Frankie's a lucky guy.” 

He approached you, unhooking your bra, his chest pressed against yours, his nose brushing your hair and breathing in their scent. Then he knelt down, sliding your panties down your legs. His eyes fell on your pussy as he removed that last piece of clothing from your feet. “Oh damn, they’re soaked… poor baby. You need it bad, huh?” Once again, he didn’t wait for your answer and asked Frankie: “wanna jerk in it? Bet it’d turn you on even more”, he added before throwing them at your boyfriend.

Frankie smelled your panties and wrapped them around his shaft. You knew how much he loved your taste, sliding his tongue into your pussy and eating it longly, but his gesture made you moan.

Joel told you to lie down on the bed, and said to Frankie as if you weren’t even there, “she’s a fucking natural. I love when they're a little shy. Knowing that they’ll lose control at some point. Being half ashamed, half cock dumb.”

You heard Frankie take a deep breath hearing him, echoing your own. Joel was a menace, in the best way. He was a combination of confidence, charm, and undeniable charisma. He had a natural dominance and he knew it, was playing with it. You realized that you were still lost in your thoughts, despite lying in front of him, offered. You met his amused gaze, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“I wonder when you'll lose control, baby. ‘cause you can be sure of it. Sooner or later, you’ll lose it.”

He knelt between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and spreading your folds with the other.

“Damn, look at that… Could you be any wetter?” He brushed your clit with his thumb for a few seconds. He seemed to be thinking about something, as you felt your pleasure rise again.

“I should eat ya. To make it easier for you. But I’d really love to feel you squeeze my cock right now. You’re okay with that?”

You looked at him and swallowed before nodding. Yeah, you wanted to feel him spread your walls.

“Wait,” you said as he nestled in your entrance. “I don't wanna use the safe word, just… show me. Show me your cock one last time, before you thrust in me.”

He took it in his hand. He was proud of his cock, you could feel it, and he was right. You looked at his red, oozing tip. Covered in precum and your saliva. Its thickness made your heart rate increase and salivate at the same time.

“Ok… fuck me, Joel.”

Still kneeling, he smiled and grabbed your hip with one hand, and lightly pushed his tip in your pussy. Then he paused and looked at your body. Your hard nipples, your heaving stomach, waiting for more. Your chest, rising quickly. Your fists clenching the sheets.

You looked at Frankie, who was leaning forward on the chair. He had let go of his cock, hard as steel. You saw his tip glistening with precum. Your panties balled up in his clenched fist.

Then you looked at Joel again. From his curls, to his broad chest, his lower abdomen. You couldn’t see any lower anymore. He pushed in, feeling your walls painfully spread for him.

“Fuck… fuck! you're big…”

“I know, sweetheart. But you can take it,” he added, continuing to push gently. “Fuck baby, that’s it. Let me in your small, tight cunt.”

You had never felt so open before, the sensation was suffocating. A mixture of pleasure flirting with a little pain.

“I know baby, I know. You're gonna feel so good, soon. Just a little bit more…fuck!”

He was breathing harder too, as if he was holding himself back from coming, already. He spat on your clit, before letting go of one of your hips to brush your most sensitive place, trying to make this easier for you. Your moans were the only sound in the room, as Joel continued to thrust slowly, and Frankie was now sitting on the edge of his chair, leaning forward. Finally, Joel’s balls rubbed against your skin, and he stopped, buried all the way into your core.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like that, all spread out for me.” He was still breathing heavily, trying to control his cum that only wanted to spur against your walls.

You looked at him, panting too. You couldn't take your eyes off him, while he was still kneeling between your thighs, totally offered to him. He was magnificent and his gaze couldn't detach itself from you either.

He held your legs wide open, his hands placed on your hips, as he slowly pulled back from your channel, keeping only the tip inside you, before pushing back in. His breathing wasn’t calming down.

“Fuck… you’re so fuckin’ tight. I gotta… gotta eat ya. Don’t wanna shoot my load yet.”

He pulled out totally and lay down, leaving you empty, a plaintive moan escaping your lips. His arms wrapped around each of your thighs, gripping them with his hands before diving shoulders forward. He didn’t pause, didn’t seek to kiss your lower stomach. His tongue snaked out, tracing a line up and down, just above your ass to your clit and you let out a whimper.

“I’d wanted you to come, crying my name, since I fingered you at the bar.”

“Fuck,” you murmured. 

He started licking you again, never taking his eyes off you. His piercing gaze fixed on you just above your sweaty, throbbing stomach. His tongue delved between your folds, deeply, seeking to drink all your flowing desire. He licked, sucked, patiently, your wetness that flowed continuously. You looked at Frankie quickly. He had moved back to the back of the seat, hands placed on the armrests, gripping them tightly. You assumed he didn't want to come right away either. He nodded when your eyes met, a silent way of telling you to enjoy the moment. Repeating, without any words needed, that he was ok with all of it. Yet he couldn't help but intervene, and a part of you was afraid he wanted to stop all of it, but he quickly reassured you.

“Fuck, baby… you know how much I love to eat you. And watching you, while another man is eating your beautiful little pussy... it turns me on so much, you have no idea.”

You moaned when you heard him. You loved him so much. 

He started to jerk off again.

“You gonna come in his mouth, baby? You gonna come in another man’s mouth?”

He jerked off harder, and you nodded slowly.

At the same time Joel's tongue left your core to lick your folds, flat, slowly, repeating the motion several times, brushing your clit. The touch was driving you crazy, and you tried to lift your hips to feel him more where you desperately needed it, but he held you firmly against the bed.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he smirked. So you stopped lifting your hips as long as you were able to, until your movement resumed unconsciously. And finally, his tongue focused on your clit, swirling over it. It was tense, out of its skin, just waiting to explode under his tongue.

“I need to stretch you more.. Cunt’s too tight, don’t wanna come too soon.”

He pushed one, then two fingers into your pussy, your walls squeezing them instantly.

“Mmmm… you like that, uh? Want you to come for me. I need to stick my dick in your cunt again.”

"Come, baby," Frankie said in a low voice. “Fill his mouth. Give it to him.”

Their praise was the last thing you needed to come, chanting “Joel, Joel…” your back arching violently as your clit pulsed under Joel’s tongue and your pussy on his fingers.

You heard Frankie moan louder, then saying “oh… oh. Fuck, fuck, baby!” just before coming, white pearls coating his thighs and fist.

Joel’s tongue stayed pressed against your clit until your shaking stopped, and you released your grip on his head.

“Damn, sweetheart… I love the way you moan for me. Your man loves it too,” Joel added as he straightened up, wiping your wetness from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand.

“That was so fuckin’ hot, baby,” Frankie said, making you smile, while your eyes were still closed and your breathing was slowing down.

Joel crawled up and lay between your thighs, his knees spreading them apart. He nestled his tip at your entrance and pushed himself in slowly, all the way in, in one thrust. More easily this time. His tongue sought yours as one of his large hands cupped your cheek. “Takin’ me so good,” he breathed between your lips before kissing you again.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and the feeling felt so familiar and yet so new. You loved feeling another cock inside you, you loved kissing someone else. You loved having your man watching you. And oddly enough, even though you wanted Joel to fuck you for as long as possible, you couldn't wait to feel Frankie's cock again.

Joel rubbed his lower stomach against you, exactly where you needed it. You wanted to come again, as he wanted it too. Brushing your clit with each thrust, his lips left your mouth to kiss your neck and then nibble on your earlobe.

“Joel…” you whined, accompanying his movement by pressing you more against him.

“Yeah. You're gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Gonna come on my cock?”

“Yeah, I… fuck, it's coming. Don't stop. Don't stop please…”

“I won't, want you to squeeze my shaft. It’s so hot to feel you rub against me to get off.”

“I… Joel… I'm gonna… I'm gonna come.”

His lower stomach brushed against you again and the orgasm took hold of you, your nails digging into his shoulders as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your body was shaking even harder than the first time, and you clung desperately to him.

“Fuck, Frankie.... She’s coming so fucking hard around my cock.”

“Damn, baby…”

Your shivering didn't stop, and your pussy was contracting continuously.

“It's ok sweetheart, I got you. Keep comin’ for me.”

Your head leaned back on your pillow, as your fluttering stomach and limbs were still trembling slightly.

“Shit… You're fucking beautiful baby. Can't control anything, right? I got ya… I got ya.”

He held you tight against him, still thrusting, brushing against you with the same slow rhythm until he felt your muscles relax beneath him. He placed a hand on your cheek, his piercing gaze trying to catch yours. Until the ceiling stopped swaying, the room stopped spinning, and your eyes finally met his. You felt the heat reach your cheeks, realizing that the orgasm you just felt was one of the strongest you had ever experienced.

“That's it, I’m so proud of you. You're doing so good, sweetheart.”

He kissed your forehead, softly, tenderly, then he added “Now… I wanna hear how wet that pussy is. All fours, baby.”

You settled onto your knees and hands, still a little shaky, and as his hands settled on your hips, you didn't expect to feel his tongue run along your ass and linger on your ring, making you moan and stick your ass out.

He knelt and grabbed your hips, then said “fuck, you like it? I won’t fuck your ass tonight, I need you to dry my balls or I’m gonna explode. But another time, maybe.”

He didn’t wait for your answer and thrusted in one go, gripping your hips, leaving you breathless.

“Told ya your hips were just begging to be grabbed,” he said, before pulling back suddenly, leaving just his tip in your pussy and thrusting again roughly.

You bit your lip as you heard him, your body rocking back and forth as it could only follow the movement of his hips as they slapped against your ass. You could vaguely hear Frankie jerking off.

“Tell your man who’s fucking you. Whose cock’s in your cunt?”

“I… you… fuck… can’t…”

“Mmm sorry, what was that? I can barely hear you over all your moans, sweetheart…” he said, teasing you, but slowing down his pace so you could answer.

“Yours, Joel, fuck… Your cock is in my cunt. You're the one fucking me.”

“You’re doing so good. Keep taking it, just like that.” You didn't really have a choice, except to use your safe word and that was out of the question even if you were practically breathless. He was fucking you too good, filling you up perfectly.

His hands still tight on your hips, he was thrusting deep and hard, making you bend your elbows and bite the pillow. His thumb brushed your ring then he pushed in lightly.

“Gonna come… Gonna fill you up. Deep in your cunt.”

He thrust in, two, three more times, then his fingers squeezed the flesh of your hips as he pushed in as far as he could, his balls against your ass and you felt his cock twitch, just before his cum spurt out, covering your walls. His grunts made you smile, it was the only energy you still had.

He pulled out laying down next to you, and Frankie immediately took his turn between your thighs, spreading them wide, your bodies right next to Joel who was watching you, lying on his side.

Frankie buried himself in your dripping, sore cunt, hands on your waist, already thrusting all his length in, licking, sucking one of your nipples. He couldn't even talk, overwhelmed by the night, by your vision that couldn't leave his mind. He knew he would love to share you, but didn't know it would move him, turn him on, that much. He wanted to fill you now, not in a possessive way, but he needed to feel you around him, needed to feel your cunt filled by another man's seed. If he hadn't been in such a need to fuck you, he would have licked your sore pussy, cleaning it of someone else's cum. He told himself that maybe there would be a next time, and maybe another opportunity to do it. The thought made him even harder.

Your arms around him, you were kissing his cheek, his neck, his lips, holding him tight between your thighs. Proving him you were his, always, and it was making his head spin.

He asked Joel to kiss you, and he loved to hear you moan as you two were making out just below him. He knew he wouldn't last, he didn't want to. He knew you were spent, too. So he just thrust in, thinking about you blowing Joel. 

About Joel's head between your thighs. Frankie's favorite place in the world. About Joel's dick pushing your walls, slipping in your tight cunt.

He was surrounded by his love for you, by how good you felt around his cock. He shot spurs of cum quickly, adding it to Joel’s, and the thought made him moan one last time. 

He sighed contentedly when your pussy stopped milking his cock. He seemed as exhausted as you and Joel were, and you fell asleep without even realizing it.

When you woke up the next morning, Joel had left a note on the nightstand. “Any time.”

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[aurorawritestoescape]

GOING DOWN || 3,4 k

Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, darkish!reader, toxic!reader, boyfriend!Joel, ex who desperately wants you back!Frankie, soft!Frankie, infidelity (reader’s), praise kink, size kink, unprotected piv, creampie, handjob, m!oral, pussy eating, cum eating, f!masturbation, stalking (reader loves it), voyeurism, exhibitionism, swearing, dirty talk, pet names princesa-princess, mi amor- my love. Reader wears a dress. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I have no excuse for this one. I don’t know why I look at our baby Frankie and want to do all this. I’m not sorry though, it’s hot to me and also fictional😉 the title’s inspired by the song “I’m goin’ down” by Mary J. Blige and Frankie’s special talent😏 Happy Frankie Friday, my loves!💖

Written for @burntheedges ‘s roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was Exes. Thank you for the fun event, Kate❤️ Kisses to wonderful @milla-frenchy for beta-ing this filth😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more Frankie - The Hoodie

You are looking out of the window at the night street, illuminated by a few golden lights, when you feel Joel’s heavy hands on your hips and then his lips plant a kiss on your neck from behind.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles, his gruff voice coated with lust.

“No, fuck me right here.”

He smiles against your neck.

“Really? Want the neighbors to see us, dirty girl?”

“Yeah. Neighbors,” you smirk, not tearing your eyes from the car parked outside your apartment building. Your ex’s Pickup.

Joel pierces you with his big stiff cock and before you start moaning like a whore, you open the window a little so you two can not only be visible, but also perfectly heard from the street. Cool autumn air hits your heated face and your nipples get hard under your thin dress.

"Oh yeah, Joel! Harder!" you cry out, reveling in the way he's dragging his huge manhood in and out your channel. You're taking it like a good girl-always wet and tight for your boyfriend's cock.

Your fingers swiftly pull down your neckline, exposing your bouncing tits to whoever might look through your window. And you're sure that someone is looking.

Not knowing about your sick game, Joel is grunting loudly, thrusting deep and hard into you, your back flush with his broad chest. He’s rubbing his stubble against your neck, then your cheek until you turn your face to him and your lips lock in a sloppy and passionate kiss, while he’s holding you close, drawing pleasure from your tight pussy.

Joel’s hand snakes under your dress and having found your naked cunt, begins swirling your clit between two thick fingers. You part from his mouth, whimpering loudly.

“Yeah, baby! Let ‘em hear what a slut you are for me. Getting fucked in front of the whole neighborhood.”

His words push you over the edge and you come on his cock, crying out from pleasure. You don’t fake it. There is no need. He is that good.

Joel follows you soon and shoots his thick warm cum into your pulsating core. When he stills and pulls out, you hastily fix your dress and grab your dog’s leash.

“I’ll walk Tom.” You kiss Joel with tongue and leave the apartment, leaking your boyfriend’s load with every move.

When you step out into the night, you walk along the street a few meters and tie your dog to a street pole. On your legs, trembling from the hard orgasm, you saunter to your ex’s truck.

The passenger door is already open for you when you reach it and you get in, feeling cold air lap at your pussy, coated in Joel’s cum.

A pair of beautiful kicked puppy eyes greet you there and you turn slightly in your seat to see your ex better in the dark car.

Frankie’s wearing a denim shirt, dark blue jeans and his favorite baseball cap that you always hated for hiding his gorgeous curls. He looks the same as the day you left him. Maybe the bags under his eyes are darker but it could be the poor lighting at fault.

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” Your voice is soft and calm, with a pinch of sadness thrown in for his sake.

The man nervously fixes his cap and glances at you from the side, like a guilty dog. He clears his throat and lies,

“ ‘m checking on you.”

His velvety voice caresses your ear, it’s soft like everything about his character. He starts chewing on his lip while his eyes are staring into the darkness ahead of him.

“No, you’re stalking me, baby. I see your Pickup everywhere I go. Near my work last week. I spotted you at the bar today. And now you’re here… spying on me through the window.”

He proves that he watched your little show when he spreads his thighs wider and bucks his hips, unwillingly attracting your attention to his big bulge. You both are quiet for a few moments.

“I miss you,” he finally admits, turning to you. His eyes are sad and sappy and you should feel sorry, bad or at least sympathetic but the overwhelming feeling in your heart is a triumph. He’s not over you. You’re the best he’s ever had and he desperately wants you back.

You’ve been feeling elated lately when you noticed Frankie stalking you. It’s been fun playing with him and you don’t plan on stopping. You pull your brows together and coo,

“I understand, baby, but you can’t keep coming here. Joel’s a jealous type. I don’t want any problems.”

While you’re talking, Frankie’s nodding along, eyes downcast. You place your hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. His own big paw flies to yours and after bringing it to his mouth, he presses his lips to your palm. Your heart flutters at his need for you and your pussy tingles when you remember the way his plush lips were leaving kisses all over your body weeks ago.

“Baby,” you breathe out and he looks at you, not letting go of your hand. You see tears in his eyes, not enough to spill but enough to fuel up your ego. His eyes are so pretty like that, wet lashes and glossy chocolatey irises.

“Aww, Frankie,” you coo and open your arms to him. He rushes to you as if you’re his lifeline, wrapping his big strong arms around your torso and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re hugging him back, trying not to suffocate in his steel embrace and rubbing his muscular broad back. Frankie’s as big as Joel, both are much bigger than you, and warmth spreads deep in your core when his scent envelops you just like his body.

You smile when you notice him still wearing your favorite cologne.

Soon your body craves something more than just a hug so your lips part and a soft whimper escapes your mouth. You know well that your pretty noises always make him wild.

Your ex reacts immediately and you feel an open mouth kiss on your neck.

“Frankie.” Your tone is scolding yet fake and you sigh deeply, brushing his chest with your barely covered breasts. Your ex grumbles at the sensation and then whispers, his voice already strained with lust.

“I miss you so much.”

You hug him tighter and feel his hot breath on your cleavage when he leans lower to plant another kiss on your collarbone. His cap slides off his head and falls on the floor but he doesn’t care. Looking down at his beautiful dark curls you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails and Frankie almost roars against your chest. His arms pull you closer to him, even though your torso is already flush with his. He slightly lifts you off the seat and you tug at his hair in warning, steel in your tone.

“Put me down, Frankie.”

He listens to you like he always does but your roughness earns another loud groan from him. You smile, imagining how hard his cock must be now.

Frankie leaves soft kisses on your clothed chest, your belly and soon his head is resting on your lap, while his arms are wrapped around your hips as if he’s scared you’ll float away.

You’re stroking his head, marveling at the silky waves of his hair, shining even in the dim light, and slightly tilt your hips up when his prominent nose pokes your mound through the thin fabric of your dress. As if thinking about the same thing, Frankie breathes in full lungs of your arousal and a guttural moan vibrates against your covered pussy.

“I miss her, mi amor,” you barely hear him mumble and you sigh. Recently satiated by Joels’s pounding, your core gets reignited with sticky desire and you bite your lip, your dark gaze sliding over his sexy shoulders and his head, with his face hidden. You part your legs just slightly, letting him closer to your needy pussy.

Like a dog sniffing out his favorite treat, Frankie’s nuzzling your lap, and his lips and nose are brushing against your tights, your lower belly, your cunt through the fabric.

You gasp when his fingers dig into your soft hips a bit too hard and he hastily relaxes his grip and looks up at you.

“Sorry, princesa.” His blown out eyes are filled with guilt and want and you give him a smile, cupping his scruffy cheek.

“It’s ok, baby, just be careful with me, ‘k? No marks.”

“Yes, yes, of course, mi amor,” he murmurs, returning his head back onto your lap.

After a couple of minutes in his arms, the fire in your core morphs into an ache and you squirm under him with impatience.

“I should go, Frankie. Joel’s gonna worry.”

“No, please,” he almost whines, hugging you tighter. “I—,” he stumbles.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I —? Can I see her?”

He’s staring up at you and you tilt your head to the side, faking confusion.

“Who?”

He knows that you understand but you need him to say it. So he plays by your rules. Like he always does.

“Can I see your beautiful pussy?” He sits up, facing you, his huge body squeezed in between the wheel and his seat. His bulge looks even more prominent now and you gush at the thought that he must be leaking into his boxers.

“Oh, Frankie, baby, you know I have a boyfriend. I can’t.”

His pleading eyes are fixed on you as he begs,

“Please, mi amor, just a look. I miss her so much. I miss you. Please.”

With another fake sigh you glance out of the window to check the surroundings, and after finding the street empty, you turn back to him.

“Ok, just for a second. Get in the back.”

“Thank you, mi amor,” he mumbles, hurrying out of the truck.

You squeeze between the front seats and sit down, turning to Frankie as he joins you at the back of the car. Your ex impatiently grabs the hem of your dress but you stop him.

“No one should know about this, understand?”

Frankie nods eagerly, mumbling yes’s like a junkie before getting a hit of his drug and you let him lift your dress and expose your naked pussy.

Your hands clutch the dress against your waist, and your legs are pressed together but it’s evident how wet you’re - your folds shine with Joel’s cum and your slick arousal.

Frankie’s breath hitches and his broad chest expands, straining his shirt.

“Beautiful,” he praises as his hand flies to the apex of your thighs.

“Nah-ah”, you grab his big paw midair and place it on top of your thigh.

“No touching. You wanted to look, right?”

“Yeah,” Frankie halfheartedly agrees, furrowed brows showing his discontent. “Then at least open your legs, princesa. Need to see her better.”

You try to contain your excitement as you tut at your ex,

“You’re so naughty, baby.”

You slowly part your thighs wide enough for your pussy to bloom in front of his hungry eyes.

Frankie’s mouth goes slack and his gaze clouds up when he sees your glistening pussy lips, puffy clit and your inviting hole. You shift a little on the seat, leaving wetness on the leather, and when you clench your walls in anticipation, you both see a little bit of pearly white liquid slide out of your entrance.

“Is this…?” Frankie mumbles, not tearing his eyes off your recently used cunt.

“Yeah. I know you’ve been watching Joel fuck me so don’t pretend that you’re surprised. My pussy’s full of his cum,” you say with defiance and wait for his reaction.

Frankie’s softly growls and his hand on your thigh contracts into a fist.

“Shhh, big boy,” you purr, bringing your fingers to your pussy. You gather some of Joel’s seed, leaking from your hole, and spread the creamy juices over your hardened clit. You rub yourself a few times and when a soft moan escapes your lips, Frankie echoes you.

“Feels so good,” you admit and begin pleasuring yourself in front of your ex.

“Jesus— fuck,” Frankie mumbles. His eyes are obsidian, forehead glistening with sweat with a few wet curls stuck to it. With his gaze tormented and pained, he reaches down to his belt.

“What are you doing, baby?” you ask, pausing your ministrations.

Frankie freezes and replies, stumbling over his words,

“I need — need to take my dick out. It hurts.”

“Ok, Frankie.” He hastily unzips his jeans when you add, “But don’t touch it.”

Frankie groans but then sighs with relief when he pulls the waistband of his boxers down, tucks it under his balls and his cock springs free. It hits his shirt and leaves a dark wet spot.

His member is throbbing, the dark pink tip, glossy and fat, is oozing his clear need for you and you lick your lips, enticing the man even more.

Frankie follows your orders and lets his cock bob and drip pre-fuck juice all over his balls and jeans while you moan again, tracing your sopping hole.

Your ex rubs his cheek, focused on the place he desperately wants to claim with his tongue and cock and croaks after wetting his plush lips,

“Let me kiss her, mi amor.”

Bingo.

That’s what you wanted as soon as you saw him at the bar today. If you cared to admit maybe you already dreamed about it when you noticed him stalking you last week. But what’s a prize without a game? Now it feels extra special.

With a little smile, you throw off your shoe and plant your bare foot on the seat, opening your thighs wider for him.

“You gonna taste another man’s cum on my pussy? just to kiss her?”

Frankie’s eyes snap up to yours and you see his defeat, his despair, his love in their depths.

He nods silently.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” you coo. “Ok, baby, go ahead.”

With a grunt Frankie bends down, slowly adjusting his position between your legs so it’s comfortable for you, and when his soft warm lips kiss your cold cunt, you flutter your eyes shut with a pleased mewl.

Frankie’s always been the best at pussy eating. Joel often goes down on you but it’s different. He demands your ecstasy, claims your pussy with his mouth, makes you scream when his rough tongue impatiently rubs at your clit. His movements say ‘Give me’ while he’s eating you out.

But Frankie. He’s whispering “Take it”. Take your time, take your bliss, take my lips and tongue and use them, let yourself drown in pleasure. He laps at you softly and languidly, licking your pussy like it’s the most delicate flower, the most delicious fruit.

You grab your phone out of your pocket and text Joel that you met a friend by accident and need to catch up.

Frankie doesn’t see any of it, he’s gone, fully concentrated on pleasuring your soft cunt. His hands are gently holding your thighs apart, his face buried in your pussy.

“How’s she?” you whisper, raking your fingers through his silky curls and tugging on them slightly to get his attention when he doesn’t respond right away.

“I taste him on you,” Frankie grumbles, parting from your sex, “‘m gonna get it off you.”

He returns to work, making out with your folds and sucking the other man’s cum off your clit and you already feel yourself close to unraveling.

“Yes, like that, baby. My pussy misses you.”

You feel Frankie smile against your cunt before he begins stroking your clit with his tongue again and again until you cry out his name into your hand, while your hole clamps around nothing, walls contract and release another portion of Joel’s thick load.

Trembling from the orgasm that’s rippling through your body, you watch Frankie lap at your entrance, drinking the runaway seed and your slick, prolonging your shattering climax with this depraved act.

He doesn’t stop kissing your pussy until you get overstimulated and try to close your legs.

“Did so good for me, Frankie,” you murmur through heavy breaths.

“Thank you, mi amor,” your ex gruffs, sitting up, his face blushed, the gaze hazy and drunk on you.

He’s shivering from the arousal, his engorged cock generously leaking precum, and you take mercy on the man.

You scoot closer to him, wrap your hand around his hot cock and start slowly pumping it. It’s soaked with his juices so your palm slides easily over his hard length but to make him absolutely wild you gather some slick off your cunt and rub the underside of his cock where his tip meets the shaft with your wet thumb.

Frankie moans like a needy slut and in a second the first rope of cum shoots out of his slit.

You hastily lower your head, take the head between your lips and start drinking his load as he’s feeding it to you, jerking and thrusting his hips up, while your hand is gliding over his shaft.

You swallow everything to the last drop and lick it all over, cleaning his cock and earning a jerk of overstimulation from your ex. Then you sit up, wiping your mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

“Fuck, princesa, I love you,” Frankie breathes out falling onto the backrest, his cock softening but still standing at attention. You smile at his confession and your hunger finally seems satisfied.

You begin fixing your clothes and he watches you for a few seconds before tucking his cock into his jeans and then shifting closer to you. He gets into your space and you feel his warm hand pressed to your lower back. His huge frame is looming over you and you look up into his chocolaty eyes. They seem sad again.

“I want you back, mi amor—I... I need you.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head, taking his big hand in yours.

“You know it’s over, Frankie. I’m sorry, but I’m with Joel now.”

“Why? Why can’t you be with me? Why is he better?” He asks, furrowing his brows and leaning even closer to you.

“Baby,” you whine, averting your gaze from his puppy eyes and tracing hearts on his hand. “We talked about it. He’s …he’s like whiskey, he’s rough and heady and… you’re like hot chocolate, Frankie. You’re sweet but you’re too saccharine for me.”

“I can get rough with you, princesa.”

You giggle and shake your head.

“It’s not who you are, baby. And it’s ok. Someone will love you for it one day.”

You hear him sniff before he yanks his hand away from yours.

You know you should leave, break it off once and for all but the sick, mean, greedy side of your soul wants to pull him back as soon as you have pushed him away.

“Frankie,” you purr and grab his arm as he’s about to get out of the car. A slight touch from you is all it takes to stop him and he turns to you, his eyes glossy, his expression defeated.

You get closer to him and take his face between your hands. To kiss him goodbye. To poison him more.

He falls into the kiss head first, embracing you tightly, pressing his torso to yours so close it’s difficult to breathe.

You both moan against each other’s lips and you pull on his hair with passion and possessiveness. His tongue is licking into your mouth and you’re tasting yourself, sensing a faint trace of Joel’s cum. It’s so sick and twisted that another surge of arousal burns your core.

You make out for some time until you part from his lips.

“I should go, Frankie,” you whisper, snaking out of his embrace.

Frankie’s arms fall and he nods, looking lost and inebriated. You use this moment to hastily get out of his car.

“Bye, baby,” you chirp, smiling at him, but before you close the door he wakes up from the trance and calls for you.

“I won’t stop, mi amor,” he admits with determination in his shaky voice. “I’m gonna keep coming. I need you.”

“I know,” you say with a fake sigh and close the door.

You’re walking to get Tom, feeling Frankie’s eyes on your back, and trying to calm down, you bite your lip, but the excitement overwhelms you and soon a triumphant smile spreads across your face.

Thank you for reading!💖

MASTERLIST || more Frankie- The Hoodie

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Tagging lovelies who showed interest in my Wip post @sawymredfox @604to647 @thundermartini @bonezone44 @casa-boiardi

[eff4freddie]

Play With Her

Explicit - 18+ Minors DNI

A sequel to Play With It

Words: 4k

You and Joel have fond memories of the last time he called you from work. But a slight misunderstanding leads to some fun with your neighbour, and to you ( accidentally) fulfilling one of Joel’s secret fantasies.

Warnings: SMUT, people. So much. Smut. Oral (m and f receiving), phone sex, mmf (kinda), Joel talks his girl through it like a gentleman, surprise Frankie, Joel’s a little shocked but he is very into it, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, Joel being kinda soft dom again.

You hadn’t forgotten Joel’s antics in his car in the middle of a workday, but despite a particularly explosive afternoon immediately following, you hadn’t had the time to properly get him back. It hadn’t been either of your faults, just that work continued to be relentless, something went wrong at the site, materials weren’t delivered, the vendors got mad. You developed a little twitch in your eyelid. Joel came home rubbing his neck and shoulders and turning the kitchen upside down trying to find the heat pack.

You knew there was love there, that there was passion. You weren’t worried about it, even though you missed him. You knew that it was situational. When the air cleared, you’d get back to taking each other apart.

--

Joel woke up early again, groaning as his muscles ached like they hadn’t had any rest at all. You were in bed beside him, and he knew that you’d had a late shift but you’d managed to rack up enough overtime that today you had the whole day to yourself. He was so proud of you, his little worker bee, and even though he was disappointed your schedules hadn’t aligned so that he could enjoy the day with you, or on top of you, he still knew it was good for you. He left a little note on your bedside, telling you he was gonna call around lunchtime. He marked it with two x’s and two o’s. For a second he imagined actually peppering your skin with kisses.

‘Soon, baby,’ he said, to your sleeping form. He was quiet in his socks on the carpet as he left.

On the way out the door, piece of toast between his teeth, he looked over the front lawn. It was getting out of control, and he’d been meaning to cut it, but he just couldn’t find the energy on a weekend, and as the days were gettin’ shorter as the weather changed, he was leaving in the dark, home in the dark. He didn’t like the look of the lawn, worried that the state of the grass was a direct reflection of the state of his aging body, of his bone-deep fatigue most days. That the neighbours would twig he was getting older, purely by the weeds spreading their tendrils over the path to the door.

‘Morning, Joel,’ he heard a voice call, and he glanced over to next door’s patio, where one such neighbour was standing with the newspaper in his hands.

‘Frankie,’ he said, nodding his head. He got on well with Frankie, even if he wasn’t 100% sure he trusted him all the time. He had a kid he had over every other weekend, who Sarah adored, and other than that he lived alone. Ex-military, he reminded Joel of Tommy, and he tried to be sensitive knowing some of the shit he must have seen. He didn’t seem lonely, he was handy and knew how to get Joel’s truck going when the engine was on the fritz, and more than anything he treated you respectful, tipped his cap when you walked by, and Joel liked that. Appreciated the manners.

‘Early start,’ Frankie said, and Joel sighed. He rested a hand on his hip.

‘Too early,’ he grunted, and the younger man smiled knowingly at him. As Joel moved to the truck he limped a little, his hip bothering him after he carried some lumber the wrong way on the site a few days ago.

‘You ok?’ Frankie asked. Frankie noticed everything, Joel knew. It would have kept him alive in his last job, he supposed.

‘Yeah, just gettin’ old, getting’ tired.’ Joel nodded to the lawn. ‘Can’t you tell?’

‘Could help you with that, got the day clear today and…well, don’t have other plans.’

Joel had seen Frankie out on his back porch drinking on his own, sometimes with a couple of other men who all looked a similar age, similar previous occupations. He didn’t mind so long as they kept it down and didn’t catch your eye too much.

‘Can’t ask ya for that,’ Joel started, but Frankie waved him away.

‘You’re not. I’m offering, hermano.’

Joel nodded. It might be a nice surprise for you, he thought, to have the house reclaim some of its street appeal. Lord knew it didn’t have much to start with.

Sitting in his truck he fired off a quick message to you so you wouldn’t be surprised by Frankie on your front lawn. ‘Organised a sruprise 4 you, baby xxoo,’ he wrote. He was going to be late. He sent it without too much thought.

--

You woke, lifting your arms up over your head and listening to the pops of your joints as the stretch moved up your spine. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a day off. You had no idea what you were going to do with your spare time.

After a second or two of blissful cotton-headedness, you noticed a droning sound from the front of the house. You stood on achy knees and padded over to the window. Surely Joel hadn’t taken the day off too, with the worksite being so crazy lately?

You sucked in a tight little breath when you saw him. Shirtless, with his curls poking out the side of his ballcap, pushing his lawnmower over your unruly grass in the late-morning sun. You scrabbled for your phone to check the time and also to try and orient yourself, to make sure you hadn’t accidentally fallen through a wormhole in your sleep, as though Siri would be able to tell you one way or the other.

You saw the message from Joel. A surprise? You glanced around the room, looking for any clues. Eventually your eyes fell on a scrap of paper on your bedside, and you read that, too. For a second you stood, confused, trying to put the pieces together. He had organised a surprise, there was a half-naked man on your lawn, and he was going to call you at lunchtime. And you remembered exactly what transpired the last time he did that.

Your felt your brows shoot up to your hairline as realisation dawned. Did he know you’d had a crush on Frankie since the moment he’d moved in next door? How could he know, you’d been so careful not to stare too long, not to smile too much. You’d felt the sparks, and you’d poured cold water of them well enough, you’d thought.

But nothing got past Joel. You couldn’t believe it, but also you definitely could.

A surprise for you? No. This time you were going to be one step ahead.

--

Joel didn’t like to eat his lunch in the truck, never fully able to get the tang of egg salad out of the upholstery after, but this time he made an exception. He’d pulled back around to where it was quiet, knowing some of the guys on site liked to pump the tunes during their breaks, set up a little jerry-rigged tailgate to try and while away the 40 minutes they had to themselves. He thought with a shiver about the last time he’d snuck off to park somewhere quiet. He let himself wonder for a moment if you’d be up for something like a repeat. He grinned a little as he dialled. He didn’t think he should push his luck.

The call connected almost straight away, like you’d been waiting for him, and he felt a little flutter in his heart. You were so sweet to him. He needed to take you out somewhere special soon, make you flutter for a little while.

‘Hey baby,’ you said, your voice high and breathy, and he guessed you were still in bed.

‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said, teasin’ you.

‘Mmm,’ you said, ‘no cameras this time?’

‘We can if you want, baby, but I was just calling to check in on ya.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, and to make sure Frankie’s doing his job,’ he said, chuckling a little.

‘Frankie’s doing just fine,’ you said, and you sounded weird somehow, maybe a little out of breath?

‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, and you hummed in response.

‘Wanna see you,’ you said, and he felt a shiver up the base of his spine. He knew that tone. He felt the smirk appear on his face.

‘Yeah, you sound like ya do,’ he said. He took the phone from his ear and connected Facetime. He heard you doing the same.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see. He’d assumed you were in bed, so he was surprised to see you were up, standing in front of the big picture window overlooking the front lawn. Your cheeks were a little flushed, and you looked a little sweaty. He wondered if you’d been for a run.

‘There’s my girl,’ he said, because the sight of you always lit something up in him, and you smiled at him, a coy little thing.

‘I got a surprise for you,’ you said, a dimple appearing on your cheek as you arched a single brow at him.

‘Oh yeah?’ he said, feeling his cock stir. Maybe you were up for a repeat after all.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said, biting your lip. You were holding the phone up with one arm, but he could see your other arm held fast in front of you. Were you touching yourself in the living room?

‘Show me,’ he said, and you grinned at him. You panned the camera down, slowly, so that first thing he saw was the straps of your camisole, one hanging off your shoulder to hover just over the swell of your tit. You lowered it again, over the belly, where you had shucked up the hem and he could see some exposed skin, your little belly button he sometimes liked to tickle with his beard just to hear you squirm and squeal.

Then a little further down. Angling the camera so that he could see down your body, to your feet on the carpet, and to the man on his knees between them.

Joel blinked. He was sure his heart stopped.

‘What…’ he started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence because he was too distracted by the man hitching one of your thighs over his shoulder and opening you up, teasing the lips of your pussy apart to properly latch to your cunt. ‘Oh my god,’ he uttered.

‘Oh my god!’ you gasped, as Frankie sucked your clit between his teeth. ‘Oh baby, he’s so good,’ you groaned.

‘Baby, what are you doing?’ Joel asked, trying not to overthink that his cock was rock hard while he watched another man lick a stripe along your seam.

‘Surprise…’ you gasped. ‘Got a head start.’

Joel’s hands were shaking. A head start on what? He watched as your hand gripped Frankie’s head, his ballcap on the floor beside him as he grasped at your hips, pulling you down harder on his face. You were squirming there on top of him, as he huffed out little exhales into your skin.

Your breath was starting to get faster, coming in little pants, as your thigh clenched around Frankie’s shoulder. For a brief moment you worried you were going to suffocate him, and then he ran a finger up the inside of your thigh and teased at your opening and you simply didn’t care.

You angled the phone back to your face, your eyes fluttering shut so that you didn’t see Joel’s slightly shocked expression.

‘Such a good surprise, baby, thank you,’ you said, and Joel felt his belly flip in on itself. You were blissed out, he could see just by your face you were half gone already. Your little whimpers were sending electric shocks to his cock. He couldn’t deny it wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, or that he had wanted to see it ever since Frankie appeared next door. He just assumed you’d never be into it, and now looking at you writhing he couldn’t remember why.

He swallowed on a dry throat. You cracked open an eye, noticing he’d stopped talking. You saw that he looked a little pale, and worried for a second he was regretting it.

‘He’s not better,’ you said, trying to form words to reassure him while Frankie was pushing any sensible thought out of your head with his tongue. ‘He’s good, just as good. It’s just different.’

You were shuddering a little, Joel could see that you were trembling from the pleasure the other man was wringing out of you. ‘Yeah?’ he grunted, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Because he didn’t want to take this from you when you’d accidentally given him something he thought he would only ever dream of, not when you were feeling so good, not when you had apparently read his (dirty, filthy) mind. Because he was enjoying it, if he could tame the beast that was howling mine mine mine every time you whimpered under Frankie’s tongue. Because, ok, this wasn’t what he had planned for the day, but it was so much better.

His cock was already so hard it was almost painful. His beautiful, dirty girl. ‘He eatin’ it right, baby?’ he asked, and you moaned a little in response. He heard Frankie grunt a little from beneath you. ‘Show me,’ he said.

You angled the phone down again, this time reaching to put it closer to your cunt, so that Joel could see the way Frankie was suckling at your cunt, the way his tongue was working his way in and out of you, how at some point he had slipped two fingers into your cunt and was pumping them slowly, angled in the way Joel knew you liked, the way that made you stutter.

‘Fuck…’ he groaned, as Frankie huffed out an exhale.

‘She’s good, man,’ Frankie said, pulling his mouth off you for just long enough to force out the words. ‘Tastes like a warm spring morning.’

Joel could feel his cock pulsing, could hardly hear for the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

‘You treat her right,’ he ground out, his jaw ticking. He could feel the furrow in his brows, knew he was almost glowering at Frankie. ‘That’s my girl you got there,’ he added, feeling the need to remind him. To remind himself.

‘She always get this wet for you?’ Frankie asked, and Joel practically growled. He was about to tell Frankie you could practically drown him every night when he noticed your thighs were trembling, your hand in his hair moving to his shoulder to try and get purchase.

‘Lay ‘er down,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t let her fall.’

The camera moved, blurred as Frankie got up off his knees and pulled you over to the couch. He heard you sigh as your muscles relaxed, Frankie lying you down and settling between your open thighs.

‘Thank you, baby,’ you whispered to Joel. He swallowed.

‘Look after you,’ he said, fumbling with his fly. He was rock hard and worried as soon as he held himself in his hand he’d nut like a teenager. He wanted to ride this out with you, wanted to be present for all of it, wanted to stave it off as much as he wanted to chase it down.

‘Oh, he’s got his fingers in me,’ you said, gasping. ‘They’re so thick, just like yours…’

‘He hittin’ the spot?’ Joel asked, as you angled the camera down your body and he saw Frankie hovering over your cunt, lips once again suctioning at your clit.

‘Mmmhmm’ you replied, breathless. ‘He’s good, baby, he’s so good.’

Joel couldn’t form words for a second, gripping the base of his cock to try and regain some sort of control over it.

‘Wish you were here,’ you said, as you pushed your hips down onto Frankie’s face.

‘Yeah?’ Joel asked, wincing as he drew his palm over the weeping, sensitive head. ‘What’d you do if I was there, baby?’ he asked.

‘Want you everywhere,’ you groaned. ‘Want you in my mouth, in my pussy while he sucks on my clit. Want you in my cunt while I suck him.’

Joel gasped, his eyes slamming shut as his head tilted back on his shoulders. You were going to be the fucking death of him, and he would happily go if this was how you’d go about it.

‘Want your tight little cunt, baby,’ he grunted, pumping now, not able to help himself, the want for you overwhelming as Frankie raised his head a little to eye him through the camera. Your hips were bucking now, involuntary and fast. ‘Play with her,’ Joel said to him. ‘Don’t let her come yet, not ‘til she’s earned it.’

He heard you whimper, a desperate little cry, and watched as Frankie pulled back. Joel watched as his face glistened with your slick.

‘Joel!’ you cried, and he sniggered a little.

‘Ain’t what I meant when I said you could cut my grass,’ he said to Frankie, who grinned at him.

‘Not my fault your girl’s got a delicious cunt,’ he said, shrugging.

‘Let me see her,’ Joel said. He held his breath as Frankie took the phone from you and angled it back towards you. He saw you, splayed out on the couch for him and for Frankie, one leg on the floor and the other held fast against the couch, your slick spread over your thighs as your pussy grasped at the air, desperate for something to lick it, to suck it, to fuck it. ‘Jesus,’ Joel said, staring at your folds.

‘Don’t know how you leave the house with this waiting for ya, hermano,’ Frankie said. Joel shook his head.

‘M’a damn fool,’ he agreed. He saw you giggle, and he smiled.

‘Get on your knees for him, baby,’ he said, and watched as your smile fell, shock and want painting your pretty face.

‘You sure?’ you asked, so quiet he almost didn’t hear.

‘You wanna be good to our guest, right?’ Joel teased, and he watched you smile.

‘I’m a good host,’ you said, and he smiled.

‘The best, baby. Go on now, make him feel welcome.’

‘Oh fuck, Joel,’ Frankie muttered, as you got up on your knees on the couch and crawled over to him, your eyes on the younger man’s cock.

‘Just wait ‘til you see what she can do with that slutty little mouth,’ Joel said. He was holding himself by the base again, almost holding his breath in anticipation. Frankie angled the camera down his body so that Joel could see your hand as you reached out to hold him.

‘It’s big,’ you said, looking up and straight at Joel through the camera. You could see how far gone he was, how much he was holding himself back. You felt more arousal pool between your legs just at the look on his face.

‘You can take it,’ Joel said. ‘Make it good for him, baby.’

You watched as he mirrored your smile. God, you loved him. Even now, with another man’s cock in your face, he was the love of your life and as soon as he was home again you’d tell him. Show him. Never let him doubt it for a second.

You extended your tongue to kitten lick at Frankie’s tip, tasting the pre-come that had gathered while you and Joel encouraged each other. You heard the twin groans of Frankie above you and Joel through the phone. You hitched your mouth over the head, gathering saliva and letting it run out over the sides. Frankie was big, but so was Joel, and you breathed through your nose as you slipped your mouth over him, opening your throat and trying to calm your racing heart.

‘Oh, fuck me,’ Frankie said, as Joel held his breath. You hollowed your cheeks, a bolt of want shooting through your cunt as Frankie stuttered, groaning low and heavy in his chest. He smelt faintly of Old Spice and grass clippings, and you tasted the salt on his skin of his exertion. Joel smelt of pine and lumber. Between the two of them they were a symphony of delicious masculinity.

‘Can you reach her tits?’ you heard Joel ask, shivering. Frankie grunted his ascent. ‘Reach down, if you play with her nipples she’ll soak the couch.’

You whimpered, breathing out hard through your nose as you worked Frankie further into your throat.

‘Look at me, baby.’ Joel instructed and you opened your eyes, letting them travel up Frankie’s glistening tanned body to catch Joel’s eyes. You could see he was working himself again, panting and squirming in the driver’s seat of his truck. His hands were trembling a little, causing your view of him to shake, and it matched the tremors that were coursing through your body as you sucked Frankie down.

You felt his hand grope at your tit and you rounded your spine to try and give him more room, sticking your butt out into the air in the process. You kept your eyes on Joel, fighting the urge to let them drift closed, wanting to watch him watching you with another man’s cock in your mouth.

‘Doin’ so good,’ Joel muttered and you preened under his praise. ‘Put your hand between your legs, rub that little clit.’

You whined, following his instruction, a little lightheaded from the heat and the desire and Frankie halfway down your throat. ‘Such a pretty girl, my beautiful girl,’ Joel prattled. ‘Love you like this, baby, throat all stretched out taking on another man.’

Your eyelids fluttered as his words hit you in your core, Frankie’s hips starting to roll as you eased your finger over your clit and started rubbing tight little circles on the bundle of nerves. Frankie pinched hard at your nipple and you gasped, sucking in air through your nose and trying not to gag in the process.

‘Oh fuck, she’s squeezing me with her throat, hermano,’ Frankie muttered.

Joel watched, almost completely out of his mind. He never wanted to look at anything else ever again, wanted this view of you tattooed on the inside of his eyelids so he could see it anytime he wanted. Your eyes were starting to water, your skin glistening with sweat, as your hips shuddered under your own touch and under Frankie’s.

Joel was so close he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. He knew he had only seconds left, and by the looks of it, so did you.

‘Oh fuck baby, look what you did to us,’ he said, and you let your eyes drift from Joel’s to Frankie’s face as he grit his teeth, his eyes staring down at you, just barely managing to hold onto the phone as you sucked him.

‘So good,’ Frankie said to you, ‘can’t…gonna…’

You groaned, taking him out of your throat and reaching up to jerk the shaft while you sucked hard on the head. Still circling your clit with one hand you reached the other up to gently roll his balls in your palm. He cried out, the shock of the pleasure making him finally drop the phone. It landed, face up, just by his knees and angled up under your chin as Frankie shot his load into your mouth, gripping your tit in one hand and the other coming to rest on the crown of your head as he pumped his hips, his come shooting into your mouth as you rolled it over your tongue. Joel had an obscene view of it, watched as Frankie’s come spilled out of your mouth and onto the couch below you, nearly splattering over the lens. It was too much, finally too much, Joel shooting come into his hand and over his shirt as he fucked his palm, imagined it was your mouth, your cunt as you sucked Frankie’s come down, imagined he was inside you and also beside you, holding your head up as the younger man painted your throat.

He came as you did, gasping and whimpering for the other, your voice calling for him as he grunted out for you, and he recovered just enough to watch as you shuddered, your body shaking and rolling with the pleasure of it as you rested your face on Frankie’s heaving belly, sweat plastering your hair to your head, come dripping from your lips, as you rode out your high.

‘Fuck, baby…’ you whimpered, while you fought to catch your breath. Joel could see you collapsing, the pleasure wringing you out, leaving you shaky and spent. He swallowed, collecting himself enough to instruct the younger man.

‘Washcloths are under the bathroom sink. Make sure the water’s warm.’ He took a second to breathe, trying to clear his vision enough to be able to drive. ‘Wrap her up in a blanket, there’s one on the back of the couch.’ He watched as Frankie nodded, listening hard. ‘Hold her ‘til I get there,’ Joel said, his heart thrumming again, an ache building in his chest to be with you as he fumbled the keys into the ignition.

‘Hold my girl for me ‘til I’m there,’ he said, again.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

listen

summary: you’ve been serving frankie and his friends at your bar for months. despite your wishing and wanting, the shy pilot doesn’t work up the nerve to ask you out before santi introduces you to his buddy, joel.

swept off your feet by the sweet southerner, and charmed by pope, the boys come together to show frankie exactly what it is he’s missing.

read part 2, watch, here

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, maybe MFM?, sharing the luuuurve, praise kink, one (1) count of spitting in mouth, dirty talk, daddy kink (heavy, sorry lmao), oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), creampie, come eating, pussyjob?, so many orgasms i started to lose count, maybe a tiny bit of angst, m!masturbation, light choking, f!overstim, bad spanish, right okay we’re done.

wc: 14.7k. we aren't gonna talk about it.

an: this is fucking filthy. i’m sorry. don’t ask.

When you first started to hang out with them all, Will told you that Frankie was useless with women. What you didn’t expect was for him to be this fucking oblivious.

You had been bartending when you met him at a bar downtown - all industrial steel, burnished mirrors, and low light. Frankie and the boys would come in every so often, and you warmed to them immediately. It was hard not to. The four men were always respectful, always polite. They never overstayed their welcome, or their tolerance, and always asked how you were. 

Of course, it helped that they were also handsome, and you quickly fell into the trap you were sure they wove for all hospitality staff. The lingering glances from their table, the crooked smiles at the bar. The competition they seemed to enjoy amongst themselves of who could lather you with the most attention.

Will and Benny did particularly well. The elder brother saved a special, particularly mischievous smile and a wink for you every time he came to order, and saved a special, bruising elbow to the ribs for his brother every time he caught Benny staring. Benny was always a hoot considering his sore ribs, the air never seeming to have been knocked from him as he chatted away to you across the polished wood.

But it was the quieter two, Frankie and Santi, who piqued your curiosity. Santi - often cool, detached; who offered little information in the way of his life but seemed to want to be wrapped up in yours. Who would watch you over the rim of his glass of whisky, drop his eyes to your lips, dip his mouth in a smirk, and say he’d see you later. And Frankie, who could do almost nothing but watch you from his corner of their booth, his Standard Oil cap sunk low on his brow, both hands around his bottle. His deep swallow when you’d catch his eye. The blush that would crawl up his neck, threading through his cheeks when you smiled.

Over the months they came to the bar while you worked there, the five of you became friends of sorts. Once in a blue moon turned into once every two weeks, turned into every Saturday night. And you made sure you were always there, sacrificing the time you would have spent surfing social media on your sofa for time spent flirting with your favourite regulars. Enjoying their eyes on you. Enjoying Frankie’s blush when you called him sugar as you asked if he needed anything else. 

One day, you hoped he’d gather enough courage to give you the answer you hoped for.

You.

But he never did.

When the time came for you to move on from the bar, you made sure to let them know. Your new job further into the city was a step exactly in the direction you wanted to go, and though the men shared touching groans of disappointment, they congratulated you wholeheartedly. 

They also invited you to their Saturday night drinks. You gladly accepted. 

On your last shift, Will slid you Frankie’s mobile number, explaining that he was the most reliable member, the one most likely to know what was going on with the group at any given time. When you ribbed him about how he must always be on his phone, Frankie shyly admitted it was because he had a daughter. He was constantly on the lookout for updates, sweet little pictures and messages his ex would send over. They had a good relationship, and his kid - Lucia - was gorgeous. They just live a little far away, Frankie had admitted, a sad little frown glazing over his features. 

You had softened to him even more, asking him questions about his daughter over the bar while you poured his drinks, propping your chin in your hand and listening to him as he continued to talk after you were finished. You found yourself trying to make Frankie laugh, to hear his sweet chuckle, to brush a touch against his arm, see the sparkle in his eyes beneath his cap - similar, you imagined, to how your own eyes glittered back at him. 

The conversation only stalled when Benny called for him - Fish, where are those drinks? - earning himself a thump from Will, who muttered something about Frankie finally finding the courage and Benny’s big fuckin’ mouth. Frankie’s cheeks had heated, and he'd cleared his throat, thanking you before gathering all the drinks in his large hands and heading back to the booth.

What you had overheard heated the tips of your ears and rattled around your brain, looming in the back of your mind when you joined them the Saturday after. 

But Will's words must have just been a silly little joke, because no matter how hard you try, Frankie will not bend. No matter what you wear, no matter what you do, the curly haired pilot remains firmly out of reach.

And it’s not like you don’t have fun together. You join them on nights out. You’ve been invited over for poker games and parties. You share glances with Frankie, jokes, tales, hell, sometimes he even puts an arm around you. But it’s always the same. The end of the evening is always frustratingly uneventful. 

Crowded into sweaty bars and packed living rooms, you’re caught in a never ending circle of wanting and longing. Maybe that’s why, one night, you find yourself exchanging heated glances with Santi. 

Frankie never really touches you beyond a hug and a kiss on the cheek when you arrive, and remains a staunch gentleman no matter how much he drinks. Santi seems to strive to do the opposite. He finds you in the kitchen one night, trying to cool off after watching Frankie laugh and lean into another woman’s conversation, feeling foolish, immature, but trying to blink away tears anyway. 

He talks to you like you’re the only interesting person he’s ever met, standing a little too close for a friend, only moving away when you’re interrupted by one of Benny’s buddies searching for a beer. When you return to the living room, Frankie notices. Notices how Santi pulls you in close when you’re near, presses a kiss to your hair, places a casual hand on your knee when you’re sat next to each other. And how you let him do it. 

When Santi drops you off at your house, he looks at your lips for a long time. His eyes are burning as he tucks your hair behind your ear and wishes you a good night. But he doesn’t go further. 

It’s driving you fucking insane.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined the chemistry between the three of you before, so what was wrong now? Whose starting pistol were they waiting for? You can’t help your desperate huffs of frustration every time you close the door at the end of another night - alone, sopping wet, with only your hand to help.

Until one night, when you really believe, truly believe that it might end differently.

Frankie has been sat next to you in the booth all evening, laughing and chatting away. His arm is slung over your shoulder, his thigh against yours, your body pressed into his side. It feels good, it feels right, and he’s looking at you in such a way that you begin to teeter dangerously close to pressing your lips to his in the middle of the bar. 

You and Frankie take the opportunity to talk about anything and everything. Catching up on your jobs, how he’s re-received his licence, your families, future dreams and aspirations. It’s almost funny how perfectly everything seems to realign. You think this is the turning point - this is when you realise how perfect you are for each other, this is when you take the leap. The only hiccup seems to be when Frankie says he’ll be away for the next three weeks - working, and then visiting Lucia. Your heart crumbles a little - just a little - before you try to sweep away thoughts of him dying in a helicopter crash or falling back in love with his ex. It feels like you’ve waited so long for this moment that the universe might just try and be that cruel. Just for shits and giggles. 

But it won’t. Everything’s fine. Everything’s great.

Santi seems to notice. He’s quieter than usual, watching the two of you cosy up together. He looks pleased, if a little put out, and when he thinks you aren’t looking he exchanges a look with Frankie. A raised eyebrow, a dipped head. A fucking finally.

As you move to leave the bar at closing time, Frankie touches your arm.

‘Mind if I walk you home, querida?’ He asks, holding out your coat. You take it and swoop it on over your shoulders, grinning at him.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’ You say.

Frankie walks you home like a gentleman. 

Too much of a gentleman.

You bump shoulders every so often, but he doesn’t move to take your hand. And he’s all bashful smiles and throaty laughter, compliments and flirty asides, but you return them tenfold, wrapped up in a blinding smile.

You’re making it easy for him. Obvious. But he still isn’t taking the bait.

Maybe he doesn’t want you.

It’s an uncomfortable thought, but it bounces around your skull the whole way home. And it rumbles even louder when you get to your door and he pulls you in for a hug, a light hand barely lingering on your waist, before he wishes you goodnight. 

You stand there, a little dazed before your brain catches up and decides to deploy your last ditch attempt. Just to see. Just to find out. 

He’s halfway down your front path when you call out to him.

‘Frankie. Do you want to come in?’

He turns, limbs coming to a clumsy halt. His brows are high on his forehead, mouth a little ‘o’. Then he frowns.

Fuck. You’ve never felt like such an idiot in your life.

‘I - er,’ he starts, and you look down at the floor, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the concrete. ‘I have an early start tomorrow.’ He says. 

You look back up at him.

‘Sorry,’ he continues, ‘Any other time and I’d be - I’d be right there. Y’know. Just - timing, that’s all.’

You try to soften the bite that wants to creep into your words at his rejection, but barely manage it.

‘It’s cool,’ you say, trying to smile. ‘No worries. I just - I bought that film you said you watched the other day. Paddington 2? The one Lucia likes.’ A slow smile lights his eyes. ‘Just wondered whether you wanted to come in and watch it with a beer. But yeah. No worries,’ and then, because you just can’t help yourself, you add - ‘Wouldn’t have been any funny business, just so ya know.’ 

You force out a laugh, and Frankie drops his eyes. Disappointed, confused. You feel bad for a second, but then you remember how embarrassed you feel, how stupid. It makes your skin crawl. Nevermind.

You clear your throat.

‘Anyway. Get home safe, Frankie,’ you say, ‘See you soon.’ 

You rush in and close the door before he can reply.

---

Your phone buzzes with a text early the next day.

You open your eyes with a groan, clutching unseeingly at trinkets on your nightstand until your stomach lurches at the thought that it might be Frankie. You sit up to grab it.

It’s not Frankie. It’s an unknown number.

Hey. Do u want to head to the bar 2night?

You frown, confused, fingers dancing over possible replies before another text flies through.

Got a friend Id like u to meet.

And then another.

Its Santi btw. Cant remember if u have my no.

You breathe out, type a quick sure. Fuck it. What harm could another of Santi’s friends do to your pride? Your sex drive? What harm could a night with Santi do? You follow it up with -

Who else will be there? Are you setting me up?

You chew on your thumb anxiously, waiting for his reply.

Just the 3 of us. Might be ;)

You snort at his reply, shooting back -

God. Am I really such a charity case?

 - before getting out of bed to make breakfast. Halfway through your pancakes, you get a text back.

Nah. Just cant stand seein a good girl like u go to waste.

You put your phone back down on the table, slowing your chewing. Good girl. The two words send a lick of heat curling up your spine. A good girl like you going to waste. 

A slow, smug smile spreads across your lips. You pick up your phone again and begin to tap out a reply. A risky move, one which would surely harm your chances with Frankie, but fuck it - 

If you don’t want me to go to waste, you could always have me to yourself.

You stare at the blinking cursor for a second before deleting the message, instead asking him for a time. No need to be hasty. 

You don’t know what his friend looks like yet, anyway.

As it turns out, Santi’s friend might be exactly who you need to forget about Frankie.

Joel Miller is older, in his fifties. Greying, tall, broad, gorgeous, and a true southern gentleman to boot. The kind of guy - you imagine - who would drive you to work the next day if you couldn’t walk after seeing him the night before.

And it’s going well. Really well.

You, Joel, and Santi chat easily around your little table, swapping jokes, telling stories, brushing touches to each other here and there. Joel works in construction - runs his own company with his brother, Tommy - and has a grown up daughter called Sarah. He’s worked on Santi’s house - actually knows most of the group - but is usually too busy (or too tired, he tells you) to come out and join them. You think about how unlucky it is that he hadn’t come around before you made such a fool of yourself last night. And then you vow not to think of Frankie again for the rest of the evening.

Joel is easy to be around - warm, safe - earthy and masculine. And maybe it’s something to do with the way his chocolate brown eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, but you don’t know what’s wrong with you. You can’t seem to stop thinking about what it would be like to run your fingers through his curls, feel the scrape of his stubble between your thighs, what his arms look like beneath his flannel, what his fingers - what his cock - would feel like inside of you. Something about the man is making your toes curl in your seat, and he hasn’t done anything more innocuous than thumb the charm hanging from your necklace. It’s agonising. 

And to make it worse, Santi knows. You don’t know how, but he does. Maybe you’re just that easy to read. 

In the blur of Joel leaving to go to the bathroom and get more drinks, Santi leans over to you.

‘What do you think?’ He asks.

You shrug, trying your absolute hardest to play it cool.

‘He’s nice. I like him. You should bring him out more often.’ 

Santi’s eyes glint with something molten, something teasing and knowing and sharp.

‘You want to take him home.’

You baulk at his words, cheeks flaming in response. You open and close your mouth as he leans in and laughs.

‘I never said that -’ you splutter, but Santi takes your hand.

‘You don’t need to, querida,’ he says, ‘I can see it written all over your face.’ 

You groan, forehead falling to his shoulder. 

‘If it helps,’ he continues, ‘I think he wants to take you home, too.’ 

You look up from his shoulder into his eyes, and they glimmer back at you. You bite your lip.

‘Ya think?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, baby,’ he teases, ‘I do.’

You hum against him before tilting your face further back.

‘You know…’ you say, lips loosened by the alcohol. Santi tips his head to the side, waiting for you to continue. ‘'S not quite how I imagined the night would end.’

His lips quirk in a smile again. Ah, fuck.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. I kinda thought you’d take me home instead.’

Santi chuckles and looks away around the room. When his eyes settle back on you, they’re black and burning.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ he says, scratching his beard, ‘A lot. But I guessed you were too caught up on Frankie.’

You freeze at his words and sit up straight, clearing your throat.

‘I don’t -’ but Santi shakes his head at you, cutting you off. He says your name softly.

‘I know about last night,’ he says quietly. Your cheeks begin to burn again, but this time for a completely different reason. ‘He told me about it after he walked you home. And I told him he was the biggest fuckin’ idiot I know.’ 

Despite yourself, you smile.

‘I’m not gonna take you home, baby,’ Santi continues as you watch him, curious, ‘Not right now, anyway. My shit is complicated enough -’ Santi cuts himself off with a sigh, and your brows bunch together.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask, your voice low and kind despite the fire sparking at his words.

Santi looks at you again, and whatever’s in his eyes looks too complex to divulge. He thumbs your knuckles, swirling patterns onto your hand.

‘Nothing,’ he says, but you frown at him again. ‘Just… stuff. Stuff to do with Frankie. It’s - complicated. I’ll tell you about it some other time. But what I wanted to say was - I wanted you to meet Joel. Because I think you’d be great for each other.’ 

Your jaw drops again, but before you can ask any questions, anything about his stuff with Frankie, Joel reappears with new drinks for the three of you. Santi gives you a tight-lipped smile, squeezing your hand before picking up his bottle. But you drop his gaze when Joel places a hand at the top of your back as he sits down.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ He asks. 

Santi doesn’t leave early, but he doesn’t leave late, either. He stays long enough to know exactly where this thing with you and Joel is going, and then bails when he knows he should. Even if you still kinda wish he’d stay. 

Even if you didn’t get the chance to ask him more about Frankie.

You and Joel linger for an hour longer, the ache in your core and the wetness in your underwear in response to him now almost impossible to ignore. Joel keeps a hand on your thigh. He sweeps a palm down your arm, tucks your hair behind your ear. And when the bell for closing rings out, he takes your hand and leads you out into the night.

He keeps a hold of your hand the whole way to your door. 

When you get home, you turn to him on your doorstep. He smiles at you, taking you in through his eyelashes. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

You grip your keys tightly in your fist, the metal leaving marks and almost drawing blood as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You forget to breathe as his scent crowds your senses, as the scruff of his beard scratches your cheek. You want to lick his neck, find out if he tastes as good as he smells, want to know what it feels like to have him pressed against you, on top of you, under you, behind you -

Joel cuts through your thoughts with a low chuckle against your ear.

‘Breathe, darlin’.’ He murmurs.

You open your eyes, take a deep breath, and sigh a laugh as you look down at your feet. 

He is still unbearably close, and you know, you know you shouldn’t, but you don’t know if you’ll ever see this man again, and everything Santi said at the bar, and the fact that you feel like Joel could make you come with just a flick of his wrist is likely what sparks your tongue to stutter out - 

‘Do you want to come in?’

Joel looks down at you again, a fire alight in his eyes. The heat sends a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t give you an answer. Just pushes your front door open, takes your wrist, and pulls you inside.

---

Being with Joel is great.

It’s amazing. It’s like you finally have someone who can keep up with you. Your brain, your days, your plans. It’s like someone plopped Joel Miller on earth with a little note saying he was yours.

In the three weeks after you first meet him, you share countless breakfasts and dinners and spend your weekends wrapped up in sheets watching reruns of Golden Girls. It’s so simple to spend time with someone who is so easy to be around, someone who just gets you. 

Joel makes you laugh, makes you feel important, wanted.

And the sex is incredible.

Like nothing you’ve ever had with anyone else. He seems to know what to do, exactly how you want it done, every time - it’s effortless. And somehow, you seem to do the same for him. In fact, the only problems you seem to have found are his size (because he’s huge) and the fact that you can’t be inside each other all the time.

Which is why it takes so much effort for you to peel yourself away from him when Santi asks if you’d like to join him and the guys for drinks on Saturday. You give him an affirmative before promptly being distracted by Joel coming out of the shower.

You see his reply forty minutes later.

Frankie will b there. That OK?

You type back a quick -

Of course :)

 - before getting on with your day.

Drinks are almost the same as usual. It’s surprisingly easy to slot right back into where you were. Laughing, chatting, joking with Will and Benny. What they’ve been up to, who they’ve been with. Questions you manage to dodge with only a knowing smirk from Santi to remind you he knows exactly who you’ve been doing. 

Frankie joins in from across the table. He couldn’t meet your eye when you first arrived, but over the course of the evening and a few drinks, he seems to have relaxed enough to look at you. Really look at you.

Which is unfortunate, because you can still feel Joel’s come from earlier in the day seeping into your underwear.

At some point in the evening, Benny and Will make their excuses - they have a family get together tomorrow they can’t be too hungover for - and it’s just you, Frankie, and Santi left. 

It’s easy for the most part. Santi bridging the gap so effortlessly that it begins to feel like nothing happened between you and Frankie at all. And it didn’t, you remind yourself. Nothing happened. And then you met Joel.

So why are you still thinking about it?

You try to distract yourself, lose yourself in the conversation taking place between the two men. Something about Star Wars, new castings they’ve chosen for a series coming out later in the year. You try to contribute as much as you can, but fail miserably, earning yourself a brief history of the franchise from Santi. Eventually you get him to ease off with a hand to his chest, laughing until he starts to giggle, too. He uses the interlude to get up to use the bathroom and get more drinks, leaving you with Frankie and his soft, brown eyes.

You peer at each other nervously from across the table. You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, as he chews the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath and meeting your eye. 

You feel your jaw clench.

‘About the other night, a few weeks back,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a fuckin’ moron -’ he pauses for a moment, sweeps a hand over his face. ‘I’m real rusty at this. The whole dating thing. I don’t think I even realised what it was you were sayin’ to me.’ Frankie huffs a laugh. A horrible, anxious feeling starts to work its way up your throat. ‘But I -’

He’s interrupted as a bartender floats by your booth, sweeping up some of the empty glasses. You smile up at her and thank her sweetly. 

Maybe you can stall whatever Frankie has to say.

She swats at the air with her free hand.

‘Not at all, sugar,’ she says, ‘Can’t let a thing like empties get in the way of a date like this.’

You smile at her and bite your tongue, feeling hot. A blush begins to claw up your cheeks as she winks at you both and swings away. Had she not seen Santi? And - fuck - now how do you brush this off with Frankie? How do you stop where this is going?

You turn your eyes back to him, and he hasn’t even flushed at the insinuation. Instead, he bites his lip, something which sends a jolt of heat to the space between your thighs. He scratches the back of his neck, and rushes out in a lowered voice that even though he’s busy with work at the moment, he’d like to make it right -

‘I’d really love to take you out this weekend.’

Your stomach plummets to your feet. Fuck. 

Tears of frustration prickle in your eyes. A lump of panic settles in your throat, and you almost feel like you could run out of the bar. Why is he doing this now?

You take a deep breath and try to form the kindest smile, the most apologetic furrow in your brows that you can.

‘Frankie,’ you breathe, and already his face begins to fall. You lean across the table and take one of his massive hands. ‘I’d have loved to, but -’

He shakes his head quickly, trying to draw his hand back.

‘It’s okay,’ he begins, ‘Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have just misread - I didn’t mean - I don’t want you to feel -’

But his interruption only serves to further spark the surge of irritation. You squeeze his hand tighter so he can’t rip it away and utter his name harshly. He stops immediately, his eyes whipping back to yours. Something stirs in you at his immediate obedience.

‘Listen to me,’ you say, shaking off your traitorous thoughts. ‘I’d have loved to. But I - I literally just started seeing someone, and I -’ you break off, groaning in frustration, ‘I don’t know if it’s serious, or if it’s exclusive, but he’s great, and I don’t want anyone - especially you - to get hurt by me being selfish or not knowing where things are at.’ You huff out a breath and meet his eye. He looks disappointed, upset even - but worst of all he looks understanding, almost grateful that you don’t want him to get caught up in this complex knot of wanting. 

‘Frankie,’ you say softly, and try to smile, ‘I mean this in the least… damaging way. If you had asked me three weeks ago, when we were here last, I’d have said yes. In a heartbeat.’

Maybe it does make you an asshole. Maybe it does make you selfish. But it feels important in this moment to make sure that Frankie understands - you like him. You wanted him.

It’s just timing. 

Frankie grimaces.

‘Fuck.’ He hisses. And when he tries to withdraw his hand this time, you let him. But you don’t look away. 

A low light flickers in his eye. Something close to anger, you think - at himself, or at you, you’re not sure.

‘Is it -’ he begins, ‘Is it Pope?’

‘Pope?’ You ask, confused. Frankie shakes his head.

‘Santi. Is it Santi?’

You bark a laugh. You can’t help it.

‘Santi? Your Santi?’ you ask, bewildered. Frankie’s cheeks heat again. You want to put a pin in that, the flush at your, but your brain is suddenly so riddled with dredged up questions you can hardly order them.

‘What do you mean, Frankie?’ you ask, exasperated.

Frankie shakes his head again, realising his mistake, but you are beyond dropping the topic.

‘Frankie,’ you say, stern this time. ‘What do you mean?’

Frankie whips his cap off, runs an agitated hand through his hair, shifts his gaze around the bar for the other man.

‘He - he likes you, too,’ he says. ‘I was worried - worried he’d beat me to it ‘cos I didn’t ask before I went away. He said it was taking me too long to do - to gather the confidence to ask you -’ Now Frankie barks a laugh. ‘But it looks like we were both too late.’

You shake your head, the cogs in your brain turning slowly. How Santi looked at you was no secret. But if what Frankie was saying about how Santi felt was true, why had he introduced you to Joel? And if that was true, had you misunderstood what Santi said about him and Frankie? You feel your mouth open and close, but Frankie takes your silence to ask you another question.

‘Who is it?’

‘What?’

‘Who is it?’

You splutter over your answer, hesitating, stalling -

‘Frankie, how the fuck would you know?’

Because he would. And, rightly or wrongly, that panics you a little.

‘Is it someo-’

You cut him off, holding up your palm.

‘Frankie -’ you press a hand to your throat, feeling your rapid pulse. Fuck it. ‘I thought - I thought Santi was interested in you.’

Frankie chokes on his breath.

He stares at you, calculating something, breathing heavily.

‘It’s not - we’re not -’ he fumbles. You slouch back in your seat. Frankie’s eyes flutter closed. ‘We fuck around sometimes. And sometimes - sometimes other people -’ You groan, your head tipping back against the leather. Your head is spinning. ‘But we wouldn’t - I wouldn’t - fuck. I don’t want you to think that that’s what this is about -’ Frankie splays his hands in front of you. ‘God,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to explain any of this.’

The room suddenly feels too warm. You cradle your head in your hands, and stare at the way the table swims beneath you. What the fuck is happening?

You glance up at Frankie, but he’s watching you so intensely, so much concern and panic and want in his eyes that it makes you feel claustrophobic.

‘I need some air.’ You mumble across the table, and stumble out of the booth on unsteady legs. From the corner of your eye, you see Santi begin to cross the floor to return to the booth with drinks in his hands, see him watch you trip across the bar. In the back of your brain, you hear him call your name, but your hands are already on the handle of the front door, pushing it open and feeling the cool night air hit your clammy skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You fumble in your pocket for your phone and find Joel’s contact. You want to go home, and you want his help to forget about this. And, you think, you should probably ask whether he had any idea about Santi, or Frankie, or Santi and Frankie. 

The call with Joel is quick, and he sounds appropriately concerned without needing to hear any details. He tells you to stay in view of the bar and to not move a muscle, and that he’ll be there in 10. You hope he can make it in five.

He’s too slow. After seven minutes, Frankie bursts out of the bar, Santi quickly following him.

‘Fish -’ Santi’s calling, but he catches himself when he sees you still standing there. Frankie screeches to a halt, too.

The three of you stare between each other, eyes wide, like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off. 

Frankie says your name before you shake your head - rushing out a not now, Frankie just as Joel’s pickup peels into the parking lot.

Frankie can’t see him with his back turned, but he sure does when Joel comes striding from behind the two men to stand at your side.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ he asks in his low, southern drawl, and you instinctively lift your mouth for a kiss before realising how cruel that would be.

Joel tenses as you withdraw, finally taking in the other two men.

‘Pope,’ he says with a nod, and Santi smiles weakly back at him.

‘Frankie,’ Joel says a little softer, ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Joel.’ Frankie says through his teeth, realisation burning in his eyes. 

‘How ya doin’, kid?’ Joel asks him, placing a hand on your lower back. Frankie juts out his chin.

‘Fine. Great.’ He says, ‘I was just leavin’, actually.’ Frankie whips his cap off, runs a hand through his hair. His jaw is set, angry. He shakes his head at the ground. ‘I’ll see you guys around.’ He says to no one in particular, turning on his heel and fleeing towards the car park. 

Santi and Joel meet each others’ eyes in some kind of understanding, and you look angrily between them. Being left out of the loop again was not feeling cute.

Joel sighs, wrapping his arm around your waist.

‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.’ He murmurs, but you lurch out of his grasp and turn on the two of them. They watch you, surprised.

‘No,’ you say, ‘Nu-uh. We aren’t going anywhere until one of you tells me what the fuck is going on.’

Joel and Santi look at each other, expressions unreadable. 

Santi shakes his head.

‘Come back inside,’ he says, turning back to the bar entrance, ‘We’re gonna need more beers for this.’

---

When you get down to the root of it, the truth isn’t even that complex. That’s the laughable part.

The long and short of it is this. One: Pope knew Frankie liked you. But he knew Frankie moved slow. And he’d gotten tired of watching, of knowing he’d be a dick if he made a play instead. And he cares about you, his friend. Wants to see you happy. Enter Joel. Two: Santi and Frankie fooled around while they were in Delta Force. It’s not a secret, but it’s never really been discussed. Sometimes they still fool around, but it’s been less frequent as they’ve gotten older. As they date other people. Three: Sometimes, when those other people they’re dating are willing, they bring them in, and they all have fun together. 

Something Santi would have been fine with if you were his. Something Frankie was less cool with doing if he’d made his move. 

Santi admits that he’s likely just been a dick throughout the whole thing. You make him promise to do better over another beer. He does. He also now knows not to cock block his best buddy with a mutual friend.

And Joel feels kinda bad about that. Not bad enough to pump the brakes with you, but uncomfortable, sure. He’s had Frankie round for barbecues, he likes the guy. He’s sorry he whisked you away from him. But not sorry enough.

Joel hasn’t been involved in any of Frankie and Santi’s adventures, but it’s something he’s played around with before. He’s had threesomes, but he doesn’t really volunteer more than that. The thought ignites something deep in your belly and you file it away for another day, a different conversation.

Once it’s all explained and you’re laughing together again, everything feels fine. Normal.

Except you don’t see Frankie for weeks afterwards.

You drop him a text every now and again, just wanting to know whether he’s okay, but you hear nothing back. Santi tries to assure you that you’ve done nothing wrong. There’s nothing for you to worry about.

But it still sits uneasy in your gut.

You see Joel almost every day. And Santi once a week. 

The three of you meet for beers in a different bar from the one Santi meets Frankie, Will and Benny in - your bar. And you have fun. 

It never goes beyond touches with Santi, though you find yourself wishing more and more often that it would. He rests a hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb swiping patterns over your flushed skin. Sometimes he has an arm flung around the back of your seat, sometimes rubbing the back of your neck, sometimes tucking hair behind your ear. He watches and stares and smiles and laughs at you and Joel, and you watch back with delighted curiosity. You like the way he makes you squirm while you sit next to the older man. And Joel loves to watch you squirm, too.

He loves getting you home and finding your panties soaked with arousal. He loves swiping two of his thick fingers through your folds with the front door barely closed, his hand shoved down the front of your jeans, your back arched already, a needy whine heavy in the back of your throat. He loves talking you through the things he’d like to watch Santi do to you, how good he knows you’d be for the two of them, how well behaved, how you’d take, take, take it, and how proud he’d be to show you off. My girl. He growls as he fucks into you at night. My girl.

And it suits you, how giving, how generous Joel is. 

Seems to suit Santi, too.

At some point ideas had been swapped between you and Joel - some thinly disguised remark dropped by him over dinner one night had led to you picking at the thread and grinding him down over three days, trying to get to the bottom of it. He liked to share, he’d said. He liked to watch. He liked the control, and the pride, and the possession of it all. And goddammit, you liked the sound of it, too. Because after serious discussion - serious boundaries, limits, run throughs of possible scenarios, you talked through people who you wouldn’t mind trying it with.

And there was obvious one name you both settled on.

Santi.

And well, given his history, it didn’t take too long for you to convince him to join you.

And if it hadn't been for Santi’s suggestion, his knowledge, his understanding of his best friend, there’s a chance Frankie’s name wouldn’t have come up at all. You’re not sure if you’d have dared, considering how things were left. But, lo and behold, it does, and along with it the chance for him to see exactly what he's missing out on. 

---

All the rules have been arranged for tonight, but the most important one, which you must remember, is that Frankie is not allowed to touch you.

At all. At any point. 

You and Joel head to the usual bar to meet Santi and Frankie for drinks. You make sure to wear a dress which clings to your curves, dips at your cleavage, and settles just high enough on your thigh to be bordering on acceptable. And it must be more than acceptable, because Joel threatens to fuck you out of it three times before you leave the house.

It must be acceptable, because Santi cannot keep his eyes or his hands off you when you arrive at the venue, and Frankie from across the table cannot regain control of his jaw.

They both look good - you all look good - Joel with his hair combed back, a deep green flannel on, Santi in all black - and suddenly all you want to do is call the drinks off now and just head back to Joel’s. But the patience, the build up is critical. It’s foreplay.

Instead, you lean back in your chair, sipping on your cocktail as you take in the three men.

The conversation flows easily after a while. Joel is a master at it, weaving questions in and out, making sure to put both you and Frankie at ease. Besides, it’s been a while since you last saw each other. Not that either of you were any less eager for him to be involved. He’d been very keen, according to Santi. 

He’s in dark jeans and a tight navy blue t-shirt tonight, his trademark cap confining his curls. He’s not dressed up, but he’s made an effort, and his shy looks across the table, his kind questions and easy jokes have begun healing the fractures of what happened weeks ago.

It doesn’t hurt that he and Santi had a good, long talk, and that you then shared a sweet phone call. 

All the same, he sits opposite you, unable to touch you for the rest of the night.

Instead, he just gets to watch as Joel presses kisses to your neck, pulls you into his chest, skates his hands over your thighs - anything he can get away with doing to turn you on. And Santi isn’t far behind. Holding your hand on top of the table, bringing your knuckles to his lips, keeping a hand on your knee almost the entire time.

Your brain is a hot, buzzing mess by the time Santi checks his phone.

‘It’s getting late.’ He says, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Eager, no?’ You tease, trying - and failing - to cover the scent of your own desperate need.

‘Of course,’ Santi smirks over the rim of his glass, ‘But I’ll take my time with you.’

You try to laugh but fall back into Joel’s shoulder at his words, and the older man chuckles. He kisses your forehead tenderly. Frankie watches hungrily from across the table, the dark void of his eyes flicking towards his watch, desperate to leave. 

When you do, he walks at a distance behind the three of you. You smile to yourself and sway your hips a little more for his benefit. And you swear you get a low whine as your reward.

---

You’re quiet the whole way home, trying not to clench your thighs too hard or rock yourself against the seat. You're so desperate for friction, for relief, that it’s hard for you to concentrate on what’s going on in the car. Hard for you to think of anything beyond Joel’s warm, heavy hand on your thigh as he drives. 

He leans over to you halfway home, and whispers -

‘You’re quiet, baby. Everything okay?’

You flick a glance to him and find his eyes equal parts concerned and equal parts aflame. You smile.

‘I’m trying to be good,’ you murmur, ‘But you’re making it very difficult.’

Joel dips his chin in a smirk and squeezes your thigh, his fingers drifting dangerously close to your panties. You squirm a little in your seat, and it goads him to drift his hand further until it catches at the lace of the gusset. You gasp at the feeling, a tiny whimper making its way out from your lips, and all conversation in the back of the truck grinds to a halt. Your cheeks heat, and you turn to look out the window again, clamping your lip beneath your teeth.

No one says a word the rest of the way home.

Once you're all home, a silence settles around you. Everybody wide eyed, geared up, on edge. You’re not sure who to look at or what to say until Joel does it for you.

‘Upstairs.’ He commands, and everybody moves to follow him up the staircase. You keep your eyes on his broad back the whole way up, and once you reach the top, he holds his hand out behind him for you to grab. You do.

When you get to his bedroom door, Joel leads you in. You turn just as Santi crosses the threshold, as he pivots to Frankie behind him and says -

‘Kneel.’

Frankie glances at you, swallows, and returns his eyes to Santi. He drops down to his knees in the hallway.

‘Good,’ Santi murmurs, stepping forward to crouch down in front of him. ‘Do you remember the rules?’ He asks Frankie.

The younger man nods, his eyes dropping to the floor.

‘Yes.’

Santi nods once. 

‘Good. Listen. And do not leave this spot.’

Santi straightens, turning his back on Frankie. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him on the floor - small, submissive - and you can’t help the little gasp you let out as Santi steps towards you and closes the door slowly behind him, leaving just enough of a gap so that Frankie can hear everything that happens but watch none of it. 

Joel skirts his fingers down your waist and presses a kiss just under your ear.

‘You ready, baby girl?’ he rumbles. You turn your face to look at him over your shoulder, finding his eyes dark, a familiar power behind them. You nod.

‘Yes.’ you say. He nods, pleased, twisting to kiss your mouth before guiding you towards Santi.

‘Good,’ he says. He turns and moves towards the armchair in the far corner of the room, sitting heavily in it.

Santi steps towards you and gently takes your face in his hands.

‘You okay?’ He asks quietly. You nod.

‘Yeah,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’ 

Santi nods, his eyes searching yours for a hint of hesitation. You try to open up your mind to show him the excitement, the want you feel. Satisfied, he licks his lips.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks. You nod again, and Santi leans forwards, capturing your mouth in hard, slow movement.

Santi means to make a study of you, you think. His tongue is everywhere, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip, his hands gentle and then needy, already figuring out exactly what it is that makes you tick. And to make it even worse, every time you take a moment to catch your breath, he has that fucking smirk on his face. It’s infuriating, and you quickly need to find something  which will wipe it off.

So you begin to undo his belt.

Pope huffs a chuckle against your lips, but doesn’t stop the work your hands are doing. Instead, he matches it with his own fingers. 

With deft movements, he slips a hand under your dress and finds his way to your panties, touching you through the fabric. You groan against his mouth, and he smiles, ghosting over your folds. Not to be out done, you slip your hand into his jeans and palm him over his boxers. He hums against you.

‘Are we racing?’ He asks.

You cock your head to the side.

‘Thought you wanted to take your time?’ You quip back, and something flashes in his eyes. 

He steps back.

‘Take this off.’ He says, tugging at the hem of your dress, and you pout at him. 

‘Does that mean you take these off, too?’ You ask, tugging at his jeans. You’re pushing your luck, you know. But you think this might be easier if Santi undresses with you, if only to really see what you held in your hand. 

Santi raises an eyebrow. ‘We’ll see,’ he says, ‘But you go first.’

You step back from him and glance at Joel, assessing. He nods at you, encouraging, and you pull your dress up and over your head. You stand before them in only your panties, and Santi takes a deep breath, biting his lip, smiling again.

‘Gorgeous, baby.’ He says. And you feel it. The way this man looks at you makes you feel weak, giddy - like your core is on fire. 

Santi steps towards you to kiss you again, making sure his hand returns to where it had been, ghosting over your underwear. You groan into his mouth, impatient now, and his teeth scrape at your chin as he clicks his tongue. In answer, he sweeps your panties to the side, and grazes two digits along your slit. You moan loudly again, and Santi groans up at the ceiling.

‘Fuck, querida.’ He says, before stretching a thumb to your clit and sinking the two fingers deep inside you. You stumble against him as he begins to work you, breathing heavily against his clothed chest. You turn your face so your teeth can nip at his skin underneath.

‘Take - this - off.’ You hiss, and he laughs, slipping his fingers out of you with a groan to oblige. Santi removes his t-shirt quickly and chucks it somewhere across the room before pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them. He hurries to find purchase within your body once more, rocking you against him, curling his fingers deep inside you. His tongue returns to your mouth and you remember his hard cock in his boxers. You reach for it, but he blocks you with his arm. You whine.

‘Tan mojada ya, baby.’ He drawls. Santi removes his fingers from where they were curling inside of you and brings them to your mouth, tapping your lips. You open for him, and he presses them in, allowing you to swirl your tongue over them. You clean off the scent of your heady arousal as Santi watches you. He presses them hard, once, against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide for him. 

He retracts his fingers.

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, and it goes straight to your cunt. You whimper a little, and he grins, stepping back and out of his boxers. ‘Take those off for me.’ He says, motioning at your soaked panties. You almost trip in your eagerness to do so. He retreats backwards until his calves hit the mattress, and he sits down before laying back, getting comfortable.

Santi watches you from the bed, laid out on his back. His lips curl as you rake your eyes over him - hands folded behind his head, his biceps rounding by his ears, his firm, strong torso spattered with dark hair, and his long, hard cock, bobbing and drooling as he takes you in.

‘Come here.’ He says. 

You begin a slow walk to the bed, hesitating only for a moment as you crawl onto it and towards him. He licks his lips as you come closer, and you bite your lip back.

You feel unsure without being given specific direction, but you know that Joel will put you right if you step a toe out of line. So you place a knee on either side of Santi’s hips, and sink your heat down onto him as he pulls you forward by the back of your neck, searching for your lips.

You start to move, to adjust to try and let him inside, before Joel’s voice cracks like a whip out of the corner.

‘Either of us tell you you could fuck him yet?’ He growls.

You try to draw your mouth away from Santi to give your response, but he clamps your bottom lip between his teeth so you can go no further. You whimper and shake your head.

‘So put your fuckin’ hips back down. Y’ain’t earned it yet.’

Santi lets your lip go and flops back against the sheets with a shit-eating grin. You lower your hips again and place both your palms on his stomach, pushing your tits together. He eyes them greedily, reaching out and flicking a thumb over each nipple. You feel your pout grow, your brows drawn tight together and your bottom lip swollen, jutting out almost comically. Santi catches a glimpse of your face, and puffs out a laugh.

‘Poor baby,’ he coos, ‘Just wanna get fucked, don’t ya?’ You nod pathetically, but don’t dare move. He is achingly hard beneath you, his thick length resting perfectly between your folds. Santi lowers his hands from your nipples until he has them on your hips, and like he’s read your fucking mind, he begins to rock you back and forth.

A wanton, needy moan drools out of your mouth as your pussy wets him, fresh slick leaking out of your clenching hole. You wonder how much of this Frankie can hear. 

Santi groans beneath you, watching the head of his cock disappear under you every time he slides you forwards. The pressure of him just against your lips is heady, and you watch as he guides you forwards just a little more, urges you to lean a little further forward until your clit catches on the head of his cock on every slide. You throw your head back, your fingers scratching at his torso, and he watches you. He whispers that you look so pretty like this, how he can feel you, look at how wet you’re making my cock, baby, can feel you twitchin’ on me already, angel. He guides you back and forth until you feel a heavy pressure begin to settle in your pussy, a burning beginning deep in your gut. Your moans become more frantic as you begin to plead with him, though you’re not sure what for.

‘Use your words, baby,’ Joel reminds you from his seat. ‘Ask Santi. Tell him what you need.’

You release a hot breath of air, biting your lip.

‘Gonna come, Santi,’ you tell him breathlessly, ‘Need to stop. Gonna come.’

But Santi just smiles sweetly up at you, his eyes heavy lidded. You pussy twitches, the knot pulling tighter. He reaches up with one hand and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

‘Why would I want you to stop, angel?’ He asks. You shake your head. You don’t know. ‘Talk to me, baby.’ He prompts.

‘I don’t know. Haven’t been - fuck - told -’ you whimper. He nods, swallows harshly.

‘I want you to come,’ he tells you, ‘I want you to come now, and then I’m going to make you come again, and then as many more times as I see fit, do you understand?’

You groan and nod.

‘Yes, Santi.’

‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘And when I’m done with you, I’m gonna give you back to your daddy, and he’s gonna make you come as many times as he sees fit, too. Okay, baby?’

You clench around nothing, painfully, moving faster over Santi’s cock of your own accord.

‘Fuck. Yes, Santi.’

Santi settles his head back against the bed again, running his hands all over your body, anywhere he can touch you.

‘Go on, baby,’ he says, ‘Use me.’

Fuck, you groan out, tilting your hips to allow your clit to scrape down the underside of his cock at every pass. Without thinking, you lean so far forward that you plant a hand around the base of Santi’s throat to keep yourself upright, tightening your fingers over his pulse point. He lets out a strangled moan, his eyes fluttering closed, and you feel the pressure in your core build heavier and heavier until the white hot heat snaps. You throw your head back, coming with gasps of his name and loud moans, still rocking yourself back and forth, still squeezing over his neck.

Your vision is fuzzy and your breathing still feverish when Santi grabs at your fingers and pries them away from him. You flush at your carelessness, an Imsosorry rushing out as you stare at your hand in his. He shushes you tenderly, breathing deeply.

‘S’okay, baby,’ he says, ‘I like it. Don’t have a problem with it.’ He squeezes your hand, and then fixes you with a wicked, cruel look. ‘Just don’t wanna come yet, that’s all. Only so much a man can stand when I can feel you falling apart on top of me.’

You flush even deeper, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, laving hot, open mouthed kisses along the hard muscle there. He groans and chuckles against you, kneading your ass.

‘Want me to fuck you now, baby?’ He murmurs into your ear.

You whine against him, lick across his jaw.

‘Yes, Santi,’ you groan. ‘Please fuck me.’

Santi grips the hair at the base of your neck to pull you away from him, and you let yourself be led. He slides you off him, and rests on his knees before you. Your eyes dip hungrily to his bobbing cock, shining with your come, tip an angry red, precum dripping down its length. It twitches under your gaze, and you lick your lips. 

Santi chuckles again, his hand still buried in your hair.

‘Dirty fuckin’ girl.’ He murmurs as he manipulates your body. ‘Turn around,’ he says, ‘Hands and knees, baby.’ You follow his directions, turning on the bed towards Joel before planting your limbs and curving your spine, angling your ass in the air. You’re not sure where you should look until Santi releases your hair and leans over your back, a hand on your hip.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he says into your ear, gripping your chin softly to angle your head. You look at Joel through heavy lidded eyes, only to find his are similar. ‘Keep your eyes on him.’

Joel is still fully dressed in the chair, head heavy against the back of it. His legs are spread wide, a hand on either arm, fingers spread and clenched slightly against the fabric. His jaw is tense, and you can see how his jeans strain over his cock - fully hard by the looks of it. You moan into the sheets as you watch him watch you. Santi kneels behind you, running his hands over your soft skin, as he dips two fingers through your folds, swearing softly.

‘She’s so wet, Joel.’ He whispers, and Joel’s eyes leave yours momentarily to see Santi hold his fingers up to the light, coated in slick. Joel’s hips move slightly, bucking into nothing, and he barely manages to grunt out a response. You wonder again how much of this Frankie can hear behind the door, whether he’s straining in his jeans just as Joel is, whether his ear is pressed against the crack just so he can hear what Santi is whispering to you both.

Pope grips one of your hips, and uses his other hand to line himself up at your entrance. He uses his tip to spread your slick around a little more until you whine again, fisting the sheets.

‘Please, Santi, please -’

And he needs no more encouragement, sinking all the way in on the first thrust. You cry out into the mattress, your sounds coming out choked, overwhelmed as he sets a relentless pace.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he hisses out behind you, neither of you able to get more words out. 

You quickly lose yourself to the feel of him pumping in and out, every part of you wound up tight, hot. You can feel yourself squeezing him already, making his hips stutter. Joel notices, too. You wonder whether he remembers Frankie is outside, as well, because he manages to force out in a low grumble -

‘How does she feel?’

Santi gathers your hair up in a fist, bringing your face up from the sheets just so they can hear you better. He grits his teeth, tries to stutter out his answer -

‘So - fucking - good -’ and at this, a delicious smile sweeps across Joel’s face. He’s proud. You moan even louder and manage to garble out a daddy, which makes him positively grin.

‘Atta girl, baby,’ he says to you, before turning back to Santi, ‘Just good?’

You and Santi both hear the prod in his words, and it shoots another thrill through you to remember just how much control Joel has; how he wants him to tell him what he already knows, to prove that his worth.

‘Not just good,’ Santi groans, ‘Fuckin’ perfect. So tight. So warm. She’s clenchin’ me already, makin’ me feel like a fuckin’ teenager,’ he laughs around a puff of air, before leaning back into you. ‘Tómatelo con calma, hermosa - quiero que esto dure.’ You moan again at his words, as they spark the opposite of their desired effect.

‘Shit,’ Santi chuckles out, ‘God, Joel. Pussy like I’ve never felt. And so responsive, too.’ To prove his point Santi lands a firm smack on your ass and you yelp, pulsing around him, biting your lip. He moans behind you. ‘Don’t know how you ever get anything done,’ he bites out, ‘I’d never be able to leave her alone.’ 

You glow under Santi’s praise and Joel’s warming stare, and push yourself up loosely onto your elbows as Santi returns both of his hands to your hips. You push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Santi gasps, before reaching around you to rub desperately at your clit. Your moans bounce off the walls, sharp gasps and whines melting into begging -

‘Please, Santi - fuck - oh my god, oh my god, please - ‘m so close. So close -’

‘Gonna come again, baby?’ He coos from above you. You nod furiously.

‘Yes,’ you gasp out, ‘God, please Santi, fuckin’ me so good -’

With a grunt, Santi hauls you upwards so your back is flush against his chest. He fucks into you harshly, fingers still working your clit, his other hand pinching and twisting a nipple as he kisses and bites his way along your neck, you shoulder, below your ear.

‘Good girl,’ he says, and your head dips back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a sob because he feels so good - 

Santi grips your chin again, yanking your face down and towards Joel.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he snaps at you, ‘You look at your daddy when you come for me.’

And you do. You can barely keep your eyes open as your body gives out, loud, broken moans escaping your mouth, Santi and daddy alternating somewhere in there as Santi fucks you through it, fingers still on your clit as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder -

‘Good - fucking - girl.’

And you see even Joel’s eyes close momentarily, his hands clenching to fists on the arms of the chair, a growl of desperation only you can hear tumbling out of his chest.

Santi is relentless as he chases his own release, but you’re so tight around him that he refocuses his efforts.

‘Again, baby,’ he orders, ‘Give me another. I can feel it. Come on. It’s right there. You gotta give it to me, hermosa -’

But you whine against him, twitching, trembling, sobbing through the overstimulation, unsure where the boundary between pleasure and pain is. You shake your head, try to catch your breath.

‘Too much, Santi, too much,’ you cry, ‘Can’t - don’t know -’

‘You can, baby,’ he breathes, voice like steel, and you whimper. That tone so similar to Joel’s, how he knows, how now Santi knows, that you can.

At his insistence, you tumble off the cliff again, weakly calling his name as a gush of arousal spills onto his lap, as you pulse and contract around his cock. He releases a strangled groan, his hips stuttering, his breathing heavy. He peers over your shoulder at Joel.

‘Where do you want it?’ he gasps.

‘Inside her.’ Joel growls, and you moan again as Santi sheathes himself to the hilt and comes and comes and comes. You feel him fill you, his dick pulsing and twitching deep in your pussy, and he sags as he begins to leak out. You both hit the mattress, Santi just about propping himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. You both breathe heavily for a second, until he moves your hair from your face and touches your cheek.

‘You okay?’ he rasps, throat dry. You chuckle breathily.

‘Yes.’ You sigh. Santi licks his lips and laughs quietly, too, shifting gently to slip out of you. You both groan, trying to catch your breath again. Your limbs are liquid, your body heavy, and somewhere in your dazed state you feel him dip a kiss to your shoulder blade before using his tongue to soothe the bite mark he’d left earlier.

You turn your face towards him as you feel his weight leave the bed. He smiles at you, muttering something about getting himself cleaned up before gesturing to the opposite way you're facing. You turn your head to find Joel, pulled to his full height, standing at the foot of the bed, still fully fucking clothed.

You slowly rise to your knees on the mattress, and Joel smiles at you, lifting a hand to settle against your cheek. You lean into it, turning your head to kiss his palm.

‘You okay, baby?’ he asks softly.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You breathe.

He nods, pleased.

‘Good. On your knees, on the floor for me, baby girl.’ He says.

You pull your languid limbs off the bed and settle on your knees on the floor, waiting patiently for him. You rest your palms on top of your thighs, tingling and relaxed, and wait for your instruction. It comes before Santi even leaves the bathroom. 

‘Mouth.’ Joel says, and you shuffle forward towards him, hungry hands grappling with his belt as he chuckles down at you. ‘My eager girl.’ And you shine a blinding smile up at him. 

You whip his belt off, launch it across the room, and make quick work of the button and zipper, pulling his jeans down his thighs so just his boxers are left. You lick your teeth at the sight of his barely contained cock, the front of his underwear stretched, the tip of his dick peeking from above his waistband, leaking and swollen. You rise up on your knees as you reach for the band, lifting your eyes to Joel’s as you pull his underwear down, smiling again as one of his big hands comes to rest at the back of your head, impatient already. 

His boxers and jeans pulled down, you take Joel into your hand, pumping him gently before pulling the tip to your mouth, blowing on it lightly before pressing a kiss to the weeping slit. Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth, and presses his hips forward, sinking his cock past your lips. You take him gratefully, opening as wide as you can, your tongue soft and firm against him, tracing and twirling as you hollow your cheeks.

‘So good t’me.’ Joel breathes out, pushing a little further, just to hit the back of your throat and hear you choke lightly. You moan around his length, your eyelids flickering shut as he begins to fuck your throat slowly, making sure to feel every inch you allow him access to.

Santi emerges from the bathroom, and he can’t help but grin as he takes in the sight of you on your knees before Joel, swiping a hand over his mouth to try and hide his mirth. You flutter your eyelashes at him, and he shakes his head before crossing the room to sit in the chair Joel was in before. He crosses an ankle over his knee, leaning back to watch you both. 

You hum around Joel and begin to bob up and down his length, using your fist to pump what you don’t have the patience to take in your mouth. Joel tangles his fingers in your hair and groans as he feels your tongue dip into his slit, slip over the sensitive spot on the underside of his head. 

‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he grunts, ‘Putting on a show for Santi, are we?’

You smile wickedly around his cock, before taking him all the way to the base on your own. You hold your head there as long as possible as Joel chokes out moan after moan, and from behind you Santi mumbles -

‘Fuck, Joel. She’s leaking all over the floor.’

Joel huffs out a breath, pulling you off his cock. He peers down at you, eyes dark.

‘Are you, baby?’ He asks.

You wiggle your ass to feel what even you hadn’t noticed, too caught up in sucking his dick. A small puddle of you and Santi has been dripping down onto the hardwood where you kneel. More slick pulses out of you at the realisation.

‘Yes, daddy,' you sigh, and Joel’s eyes roll up into his head. He yanks your hair roughly to bring you to your feet.

‘Get up,’ he snarls, ‘And get on the bed.’

Joel all but throws you back on to the mattress, and it happens in such a rush that you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. You wrack your brain as Joel undresses before you, his eyes scouring your body, taking in the marks, the bruises already forming, how your hair is wet with sweat at the roots, how your pussy still drips onto the sheets - 

And then you get it. Joel is getting off on it - on the thought of you being full, used, wanted, shown off -

Once he is down to just his skin, he crawls over you, lifting and pushing your hips to move you up the bed. He dips his head to lick and kiss and bite at your neck, and your hands flutter around him, touching him everywhere. His back, his arms, his neck, his face, scraping your nails down his exposed skin. He makes his way to your mouth, devouring you - all tongue and teeth until he rears back to look at you, sprawled and gorgeous below him. 

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he groans, ‘So perfect like this. Open your mouth for me.’ You do as he says, flattening your tongue out against your lower lip for good measure. He groans again, and then leans forward to spit in your mouth. You swallow it down hungrily.

‘Thank you, daddy.’ You say, and he leans back down to kiss you again before retracing down your neck, your collarbones, your breasts -

‘Such a good girl, rememberin’ your manners,’ he grumbles, ‘So good, takin’ Santi, look so good when you’re takin’ his cock.’ You whimper as he bites down on each of your nipples, soothing them with open-mouthed kisses. He kisses down your stomach, around your heat, nipping the inside of your thighs, making sure to leave marks, breathing hotly onto your skin.

‘But now you’ve made a mess, baby, haven’t you?’ He says. You mewl at the ceiling, clutching the sheets around you as Joel blows on your clit, hovering just above where you need him. ‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you, with a sharp slap to your thigh.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You cry.

‘And what do we do when we make a mess?’ He asks.

‘Clean it up, daddy.’ You pant.

‘Good girl,’ he coos, ‘Good girl.’ Before he licks a fat, hot stripe from your leaking hole up to your clit.

You gasp at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, the coil in your stomach already wound impossible tight, every part of your body still so sensitive. Joel works with abandon at your pussy, flattening his tongue to lap at you, tasting the mixture of you and Santi, slurping around your opening before focusing his efforts on your bundle of nerves, sharpening his tongue to work it in tight circles, then figure eights. Your hips buck strongly against him, and he secures a forearm against your lower belly to stop you struggling. He hums against you as your hand winds its way into his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.

‘Daddy, daddy, daddy, so good - fuck - so good - tongue feels so good, baby -’ You babble to him, to yourself, and Joel lowers his mouth, working his tongue inside you, grinding his nose against your clit. Your shoulders shoot off the bed, and you pull his hair now, biting a curse between your teeth. Joel doesn’t let up for a second, just moves his forearm so he can force your upper body back down onto the bed. Your fingers loosen their grip on his hair, coming up instead to scrub at your face as moan after moan escapes you.

A groan echoes from the chair, and you flick your gaze behind you to see Santi watching greedily, palming himself through his boxers. The sight only serves to work you up more, your core tightening and tightening and tightening, an unbearable heat settling where Joel’s tongue is, but you need him deeper -

‘You close, baby?’ He mumbles against you.

‘Y-es.’ You force out, as he pinches your clit between his lips.

‘What do you need?’ He asks.

‘Fuck - your fingers, Joel, please -’ 

Joel obliges, slipping one, and then two digits into your cunt easily, fucking them in and out as he licks again at your nub, swirling and sucking and lapping -

‘Come on, baby,’ he groans, ‘Give me what I want.’

The forearm he has braced against your middle barely keeps your back on the bed as you come, hard and loud against his tongue. Your whole body twitches, so warm, as he laps and laps and laps at you, as you beg him to stop, to let you breathe for just a second - but he doesn’t, he never does, just eats until he’s had his fill, until he’s satisfied. 

When he lifts his head from between your thighs, his beard and cheeks are glistening with your come. He releases his grip on you and begins to crawl upwards again, and you clamp your thighs shut to stop him from provoking anymore overstimulation. He laughs down at you, kneeling back to yank your legs back open with his strong hands.

‘We’re not done with you, yet, baby,’ he coos, ‘I ain’t had all my fun.’

You shake your head at him, pitiful, your lower lip jutting out. He pouts back at you.

‘You don’t want daddy’s cock, darlin’?’ He asks. You can’t even find it in you to hesitate.

‘I do,’ you cry, ‘Just don’t wanna be touched anymore.’

Joel nods at your words, strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead.

‘It’s okay, baby girl,’ he murmurs, ‘I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. Won’t make you come again if you don’t want to.’ Liar. He knows just as well as you do what his cock does to you. But still, he pauses, makes sure you’re looking at him. ‘Can I still have this pussy, angel?’

You blink up at him. Something warm curls in your stomach. Relief, you think, that he’s heard you, understands - that you know - even with Santi and Frankie here - you could stop this at any time.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You say. 

He smiles, wraps you up in a tender kiss.

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ He murmurs as he lines himself up at your entrance, and begins to sink in.

Joel tugs at the backs of your thighs, hitching them to your chest so he can watch as he splits you open. His eyes flick from your cunt to your face, the glistening slit stretching to accommodate him and the way your jaw falls loose in a silent ‘o’, your brows brunched, your eyes rolling and falling shut. The slip of him is sinful tonight - your orgasms leaving your body like jelly, Santi’s cock preparing you for Joel’s thickness. But he still moves toe-curlingly slow, inch after inch after inch providing a delicious stretch. He groans as he feels you flutter and tense and contract around him, still unable to breathe, unable to speak. Only he can get you like this - not a babble slipping past your lips, unable to do anything but feel him. Joel pants, moaning again as he bottoms out, tip kissing your cervix. He runs a finger over your cheek, letting you adjust further.

‘Talk to me, baby,’ he urges.

He rocks his hips back and forth, no more than an inch, but it punches out the breath you were holding.

‘Fuck, Joel,’ the whisper all you can get out. He smiles at you.

‘Yeah, angel?’

‘So big.’ you breathe, shifting your hips so he can sink even further in.

‘There she is,’ he huffs, pulling out again, ‘There’s my girl.’

Joel rocks forward again, and you cry out around him, the noise setting him off into a languid pace which allows him to hit every single spot inside you. You can’t bear to touch your own body, frightened of sending yourself into the void, but you do touch Joel. You clutch at his biceps, his tight forearms, nails leaving little crescent moons wherever you grip. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, swipe the lines on his forehead, the stubble on his cheeks. He twists his head to kiss and suck at your thumb, and you mewl at him, eyes wide and glassy, so full of him you don’t know what to do.

You’re barely aware, even, of the slick sound of skin and Santi’s soft groans as he works his cock in the chair, caught up in the intensity of you and Joel fucking, his chest flushed and shining with sweat. 

There’s still not a noise, not a peep from the other side of the door.

All you can hear is Joel; his deep breathing, low grunts and moans, his whispered praises, and the startlingly wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. You can’t stop the contractions that build inside you, and every time one ripples through your pussy Joel’s head drops a little lower towards your chest. 

Your orgasm feels deafeningly close and impossibly strong, brought on by every shift of Joel’s dick. You try to breathe through it, your moans getting louder, soaking the room with sound, but it’s hopeless. 

Joel dips his head to kiss you softly, swallowing your sounds for just a minute. When he pulls away, you teeter on the edge, everything feeling heavy and blurred and blazingly good.

‘Joel.’ You whisper urgently.

‘I know, baby,’ he says, ‘I can feel it. You’re taking it so well, sweet girl. So good f’me. I know it feels good. You can let go. You can do it. Come on.’

You all but scream against him, your orgasm ripping through your body, every muscle on fire. Your legs shake and your arms tighten around his neck as you shiver and twitch around him, and he moans, long and loud, like you’ve never heard him do before. 

As he fucks you through it, the relief, the pleasure catches up with you, and tears swell and pour out of your eyes.

‘So good,’ you sob, ‘So good daddy, God -’

Joel coos back at you. ‘Atta girl, baby. Knew you could do it. Knew you could give me one more. And it was so pretty, baby.’ he grins at you, before picking up his pace. You whine beneath him.

‘’S okay,’ he promises, ‘Where do you want me, darlin’?’ and you huff at him, as if you could ever give a different answer.

‘Inside. Come inside me.’ You say. And Joel crowds you out, pushing all the way in so you’re moaning again, pumping in the deepest part of you as his hips flex against yours, his head in your shoulder. You stroke his curls, breathing deeply as he relaxes. 

‘Jesus Christ,’ he mumbles against your skin. He pulls his head away, blinking. You giggle up at him.

‘Y’alright?’ you ask, and he smiles back.

‘Fuckin’ more’n alright,’ he laughs, ‘Are you?’

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘Real good.’

Joel slides himself out of you, both grunting at the loss, and he flicks a look over your shoulder.

‘You good, Pope?’ He asks, grinning at the other man. You twist your head to look at him too, giggling again when you take in his fucked out face, exhausted in the corner, his stomach covered in come. Santi can’t help but grin back.

‘Yeah, great.’ he answers wryly, and you giggle even more.

Joel laughs with you, rolling onto his back and pulling you against his shoulder, kissing your hair.

‘Did so good, baby.’ he reminds you again as you feel him begin to dribble out of you.

Santi stands with a groan, and makes his way back towards the bathroom, muttering something about having to clean himself up again. 

You press your face to Joel’s neck with a smile, leaving soft kisses, only coming away when you hear the jingle of a belt buckle. Santi is dressing at the end of the bed, just short of pulling his top on. You frown at him.

‘You’re leaving?’ you ask. He looks up, smirking again.

‘Not yet, querida,’ he says, ‘Just cold. Besides, there’s still someone we need to look after.’ 

You watch him as he buckles his belt with baited breath, curious as to how this will play out. You aren’t sure what exactly will happen next - whether Frankie will come in, or who will… deal with him. Your breath hitches in your throat before Joel answers your questions for you.

‘Go check on Frankie, baby girl,’ he murmurs, stroking your hair back. You bury your face in his chest again, and breathe in deeply. You scrunch the sheets at his waist in your fist, and Santi chuckles at your reluctance to leave the bed. You plant a kiss to Joel’s exposed skin before pulling yourself away to sit up on the bed. Planting your feet and gathering your strength before standing. You pick up Joel’s flannel from the floor and slip your arms into it, bundling yourself against the chill you now also feel as you pad towards the door. You feel Joel and Santi’s eyes on you, silent, assessing.

When you reach the bedroom door, you touch it gingerly, breathing deeply. You feel… nervous. How would Frankie react to everything he’d heard? You knew he’d done things like it before, but you knew you would be so… angry. Jealous and frustrated. You bite your lip, and slowly pull the door back.

Frankie is exactly where Santi left him, on his knees a step back from the threshold. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

At some point during it all, he'd removed his cap. It’s tossed on the floor a few feet away, and his hair is… fucked. Strands stick out on all sides, his curls mussed and frazzled. Sweat is gathered at his temples, and his skin has a warm, glossy sheen to it. All across his face, right down to the hollow of his throat peeking above his t-shirt. His lips are swollen and bitten, wet with spit as his tongue pokes out to lick them again at the sight of you, and his eyes… Eyes so dark they’re almost black, pupils blown so wide they just sparkle back at you. Deep, dangerous, and hungry. 

He’s ravenous as he looks you up and down - your smooth skin, naked thighs, bare pussy - still dripping with come - up to your exposed tits, bitten and bruised, your neck, your face… totally fucked out, swollen lips, smudged makeup, your own blown out eyes. He moans as he takes you in, and you go weak at the knees at the sight of his hands raking up and down his jean-clad thighs. His dick is straining against the denim, against the claw of his zipper, and as you look closer, you see a wet patch much larger than just precum darkening the fabric. Your cheeks flush at the sight, at the knowledge - Frankie had come in his pants just listening to the three of you.

You breathe out shakily and get to your knees, so close to him you're almost touching. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, and he leans into it, breathing in and out deeply, closing his eyes.

‘You okay, baby?’ You ask him softly, voice low. Frankie groans again.

‘Yes.’ He croaks out. 

You don’t know if you’re allowed, but you figure you’ll find out soon enough. You lean forward, tits spilling out of Joel’s shirt, and place your hands on his thighs. His breathing sputters, and his head drops forward, but not before you can catch his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. Just like you’ve wanted to, for so long. 

He sighs against you, lips seeking yours. But he seems so exhausted, so on edge, that he can hardly pour any fire into it. His tongue searches your mouth, almost like a plea. 

Please. Please.

As though he hears it too, Joel says quietly from the bed -

‘Help him, baby.’

You pull away from Frankie’s kiss and lean your forehead to his.

‘What do you need?’ You whisper. 

He looses a ragged sigh, too turned on to even know himself.

‘Can I touch you?’ He breathes.

You nod, and he reaches out his hands - carefully, gently - to skirt over and up your waist, to touch your stomach, to skate over your tits. You wince, once, as he traces over one of your nipples, and he freezes. You smile shyly at him.

‘It’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘’M just sore.’ He nods, and continues to touch, caressing your neck, thumbing your jaw, your cheekbone, stroking your brow. He’s so tender, so Frankie, that you feel tears well behind your eyelids. As though he can sense it, tell the gravity of the moment, he drops his hands, skirting them along your thighs, drifting towards your hips, thumbs rubbing the sides of your tummy, before creeping towards your heat.

‘Is this okay?’ He asks.

‘Yes.’ You sigh, this time against his mouth, drawing his lips back to yours. 

When Frankie dips one of his hands to sweep through your folds, you both moan. Low and long against each other. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathes against you, stalling. Slowly, slowly, he brings his coated fingers to his mouth, so close to you that you can smell it, the mix of you and Joel and Santi, and he slips the digits between his lips. He holds your eye the whole time, devouring, tongue swiping over every knuckle, every valley, until they’re clean. He releases them with a pop. You groan, wanting him, impossibly, and you ask again.

‘What do you need, Frankie?’

‘You.’ He says. Frankie swoops forward again to kiss you, one hand now at the back of your head, one back between your legs, gathering the mess between your thighs. You rock against his hand as he parts you, feels you, and you reach forward for his belt, his button, his zipper, undoing all three in record time. You slip a hand into his jeans, under his boxers, impatient to feel him, all of him, and he gasps against you, stilling his movements. He groans your name, almost in warning. 

‘It’s okay,’ you tell him, stroking his hair soothingly, ‘You’ve waited so long, Frankie. It’s okay.’

You take your hand out from his pants, and join his at your pussy, just for a moment, just to collect what’s left and what’s already pooling from you again, before returning your hand to his cock, using the combined juices to move your hand easily up and down. Frankie moans brokenly against you, his body slumping forwards. 

You can’t see him like this, but you can feel him - and Frankie is big. Not quite as big as Joel, but thicker and pulsing against your palm, already wet from his come and what you have just provided him. You swipe your thumb over his tip, collecting his precum to spread down his length, and he jerks against you at the movement. 

‘Fuck, baby,’ he whispers, ‘I can’t, I’m not gonna last, hermosa -’

You shush him again, kissing at his temple, his brow, his cheek, before nudging to his lips.

‘It’s okay, Frankie,’ you say again. ‘I want you to come. You deserve to come. You’ve been so good for us.’ 

And it’s all Frankie needs as he moans loudly against your lips, body seizing and relaxing harshly against yours as he spills himself over your fist, over his jeans, over your thighs and the top of your mound. There is so much of him it’s almost comical, and you laugh softly as he finally starts to relax.

He looks up at you shyly, questioningly.

‘Look at you, Frankie,’ you breathe, and he flushes right to the tops of his ears. ‘So good.’ You murmur.

‘All for you,’ he whispers so only you can hear. He holds your gaze, trying to communicate everything he’s been thinking behind that door. ‘All for you.’

You lean forward and kiss him again. Try to forget, for now, the scratch of those unanswered questions, what it could all mean. Later.

‘Come on,’ you say, taking his hand and rising from the floor. He follows and returns your smile. ‘Let's get you cleaned up.’

[scrambledslut]

makes me so eepy

[baronessvonglitter]

Halftime Show

Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno x f!sexworker!reader (lucky girl)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: you're an escort hired for a private Super Bowl party hosted by a mysterious client and his four friends

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, reader's work name is "Angel", reader is a sex worker, mildly dubious consent (though she does state that the men can do as they want, it's her first experience in sex work), rough sex (but no violence done to reader), group sex, threesome to sixsome, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, double p in v, anal sex & fingering, multiple penetration, hand jobs, face fucking, facial, verbal abuse/humiliation, squirting, swallowing, creampie, spitroasting, reader gets slapped w/a dick for a bit, porn without plot, you know.. all the sweet stuff.

Author's Note: another cross-post from AO3 but honestly, football is barely mentioned so if you want you can ignore the whole Super Bowl aspect. Y'all might know by now I love a little romance in my smut but this particular fic has zero romance. Reader is there to do a job and leaves having done it very well. Also.. I'm considering creating a part 2 featuring more Pedro Boys, so any input on that is welcome!

FULL MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST | JAVIER PENA MASTERLIST

It's your first day as an escort and you're a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. You never know what you're going to expect from clients, but these guys you're about to meet have been pre-screened and even had to turn in blood tests just to be considered as clients. The escort service you work for is very prestigious. You're even driven to the location by a security detail who is tasked to wait outside for you. This makes you feel a little better.

You take a quick look at your outfit before you leave the car. The rule is you show up in character and leave in character. No real names, no background stories, just a persona and an exchange of goods. Simple as that. Should be easy enough.

Taking a deep breath, you exit the car and go up to the front door.

The doorbell rings, and Dave York springs from the sofa, a little smirk on his lips. "Guys, I think she's here," he announces, and the rest of the group look up from the Super Bowl game, groaning when Dave mutes the sound even though it's just gone to commercial.

"Who?" Frankie Morales asks, swigging a beer.

"The halftime entertainment," Dave answers mysteriously.

Marcus Moreno and Joel Miller trade inquisitive glances. Javier Peña raises his brow. He knows what Dave means.

Dave brings you into the living room and you take a quick survey of your surroundings: the home is nicer than most, two stories, decorated tastefully but with an obvious woman's touch. You give him a once-over. He's forty-ish, handsome, clean-shaven.

"The wife got the house in the divorce," Dave tells you, as if reading your mind. "This is my last weekend here, so let's make it count!" He raises his glass of whiskey to the guys, most of whom also salute with their drinks. They are all eyeing you like a pack of dogs that haven't eaten in days.

Marcus, a kind-looking man with dark eyeglasses who gives you Clark Kent vibes, smiles awkwardly at you, blushing. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" he asks Dave politely.

"Angel," you give your working name, smiling at each of the men. They're all cute: some scruffy, some dapper.

Dave smirks. "I'm Dave, and these are my buddies Marcus, Frankie, Joel, and Javier." Each of the guys smiles or nods at you as they're introduced.

"I heard you guys are looking to get wild," you say, opening your winter coat to reveal your see-through lingerie. Joel, Javier, and Dave whoop in excitement. Marcus and Frankie are more reticent but can't take their eyes off you. "What do you plan on doing with little ol' me?" you ask innocently, kneeling on the cushioned ottoman in the middle of the living room. You glide your hands over your body and smile as the men shift in their seats, watching you, getting hard already at the idea of you offering yourself.

Dave is the first to put his hands on you, first on your hips then grabbing your ass. Joel, an older man with graying hair and green flannel shirt, interrupts him, rising from his seat. "Now, who told you you get to go first?" he asks in a deep voiced Texan accent.

"First? We're running a train on this girl?" Javier asks from his seat, a cigarette burning between his lips. He's dressed like someone from the 1970s but his clothes fit him well, accentuating a lean physique.

"You can do whatever you want with me," you tell them with confidence. "But of course, no hitting, no biting, no leaving marks." You are resolute on this, as is your employer.

"Hell, darlin', we're not monsters," Joel says, his eyes full of concern for you. The others chime in that they aren't into really rough stuff. Only Dave looks a little disappointed by your rule.

"I'd expect you to be more methodical about this," Javier tells Dave, rising from his seat and casting an amused glance at his friend. He eyes you up and down then reaches into your bra to cup your breast while his other hand dives between your thighs. "Christ, she's already wet. And so fucking tight. You haven't been doing this kind of work long, have you, baby?"

"You all are my first clients," you admit, your breath hitching as his thick fingers tease you.

Javier manages a small smile then looks over at the group. "You haven't thought about these guys," he tells Dave, and nods at Frankie and Marcus. "They're completely baffled by this."

"We're not, I know exactly what's going on," insists Frankie, an adorable middle-aged guy wearing a t-shirt, cargo pants and baseball cap. His innocence is palpable and quite touching.

Dave and Javier's hands are still on you, grabbing and groping. It's a good start. "I'm paying for her. I should get to go first," Dave complains.

A few of the guys (well, okay, Javier and Dave) start to bicker about it, fueled by testosterone and alcohol. Joel strides up to you, effectively taking you away from Dave and Javier. "It's kind of a shame that no one's puttin' her feelings into consideration. She's gonna be providin' a huge service for us. Least we can do is give her a little pleasure beforehand." With that, he takes you and places you on the ottoman, kneeling between your open thighs. He rips open the crotch of your lingerie and dives in, sucking on your pussy. Your initial shock gives way to thrill as you register the warm, wet stiffness of his tongue rasping your folds, your clit, not taking his time about it. Your fingers curl into his hair as you lift your thighs back. You're still on the clock, still giving a show, even if this part is currently for your benefit. With Joel's aid you manage to take the now-ruined lingerie off and are naked but for your knee-high stockings.

"Way to get the party started," Javier says approvingly. "I'm not about to waste any time." He goes to you and sits you up. You take a moment to admire the bulge in those tight trousers before he pulls them down enough to take out his thick shaft. You obediently open your mouth to accept it and he slowly moves into your throat, allowing you to get used to him. Saliva pools in your mouth as you start to moan around his dick, still exhilarated by Joel's ravishing you with his tongue. You feel a hand massaging your breast and look over to see Frankie, his puppy dog eyes wide with wonder, as if he can't believe you're real.

"That feels so good," you tell him, sensing he likes praise. He lights up, encouraged by you, and continues to pinch and pull at your nipple before sucking on it, extracting a pleasured moan from your lips before you go back to sucking off Javier.

Marcus and Dave stand back. Marcus looks flustered and Dave has his hands on his hips, making a face. He's figuring out where to squeeze in but at the same time doesn't want to share.

Meanwhile you're keeping busy with Javier's cock in your mouth, Frankie's mouth on your breast, and Joel still lapping at you between your thighs. The most exquisite feelings comes over you and your scream is muffled as you come so hard, your body spasming while surrounded by these men. It's the most sensually charged moment of your entire life.

Joel lifts himself up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "She's wetter'n a cucumber in a convent," he chuckles, standing and trying to get the feeling back in his knees. Frankie then moves down to finger you just as Javier is on the verge of coming. Just as he gives a strangled growl, spilling his cum into your willing throat, you feel one of Frankie's fingers in your ass. You gasp and clench around him as Dave takes Javier's place. Your body is buzzing with energy, with lust.

"You're gonna earn every penny," Dave growls, thrusting into your mouth as if he hates you. You don't have a gag reflex but you pretend to choke on him, bringing tears to your eyes.

Frankie starts to undo his pants then quickly steps away. "I'm, uh, not ready yet."

"Let her take care of it," Javier says, lighting up another cigarette.

"No smoking in here," Dave warns, his eyes still on the mascara running down your face.

"Fuck you."

You start stroking Frankie, smiling at the plumpness of his cock, uncut. He's gazing down at you with tenderness in his eyes.

"Marcus, you joinin' us?" Joel asks, getting ready to pull down his jeans.

Marcus watches from the adjoining kitchen, his beer growing warm in his hand. "Maybe.. in a bit." He smiles nervously.

Joel shrugs and unzips himself, releasing his thick, veiny cock. It's all you can do not to stare at it in wonder.

"Hey, I was gonna go first," Dave says aggressively.

"You snooze you lose. Aren't we all gonna get a turn?" Joel smirks before aligning himself to your opening. "Such a tiny, perfect little pussy.. you're gonna be completely wrecked when we're done with you, babygirl..."

Your eyes widen when he begins to slide into you, but you're already slick enough to take him. You remove Dave from your mouth so you can watch Joel's cock disappear inch by inch into your cunt.

"Don't forget about me," Dave warns you, tapping his dick against the side of your face. You compliantly return to sucking him off and he grunts contentedly in response. At the same time Joel pushes in to the hilt. "Hell she's taking every inch of me," he groans. "What a good little slut she is.."

"Well shit, don't stretch her out before the rest of us," Dave complains.

"That's not a particular worry of mine," Javier smirks, getting himself ready again as he goes to your free hand, opposite Frankie, who is already hard and ready. Joel is building up a nice tempo, sliding deep inside your pussy, Dave thrusts avidly into your mouth, Frankie and Joel are watching you as you zealously prime them for whatever they want to do next.

"Oh my god!" Frankie's eyes go wide and without warning he comes on your stomach and you make a sound of surprise when you feel the warm stickiness of him on your skin. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be," you tell him with a smile. "Think you've got another one in you?" you wink and scoop his cum into your mouth as Frankie watches in wonder.

Dave seems upset that you keep removing him from your mouth to talk to Frankie, but Frankie looks so happy that you're not grossed out or upset. Dave grabs hold of the back of your head and rams himself in your throat. "Less talking, bitch," he growls.

You would give him a death glare but then you feel Joel speeding up, his thrusts strong, the loud slapping of your flesh fills the air. Before you know it you're throbbing around him, milking him as you feel him finish inside you. He doesn't stay long, and soon Javier takes his place. "Flip over, cariño," he says, moving you on all fours. Dave takes over from the front, Frankie strokes himself while fondling your tit. Javier grabs your ass and slides in, letting you feel every inch of him as you moan around Dave's cock. He cums soon, spraying the back of your throat with his thick white cum.

"Get in there, Frankie!" Javier encourages, pumping away none too gently as he watches your ass ripple with each thrust. "Marcus get over here and do something or you'll miss out!"

Marcus seems frozen to his spot but Frankie follows orders and you open wide to receive him. He looks down at you like you're some kind of miracle, and you make sure to look at him the same way, charmed by his good nature.

Javier leans close to you. "I'm gonna put it in your ass, cariño."

"Do whatever you want," you purr.

He pulls out of you and you feel a warm glob of saliva at your rear entrance. Javier smears it around your puckered hole and eases himself in. You gasp, fists clenching the edge of the ottoman. "Fill all her holes, boys," Dave says, watching from the side. "That's what she's here for."

Frankie pulls away from your mouth. "Let me get under you." he says, and Javier pulls out enough for you two to get positioned. Frankie aligns himself at your entrance and sinks in easily. "Jesus, you feel so good, Angel.." He thrusts up into you as Javier continues to fuck your ass. The three of you are a fusion of lust and frenzy. Joel watches, running his tongue over his lips, still tasting your sweet essence. Dave tells everyone he's next to claim your ass. Marcus has since inched closer, undeciding yet if he's going to join, or how. He's obviously hard, his eyes dark with craving.

"Marcus," you mumble as he approaches your side. "Fuck my mouth," you beg.

He suppresses a gasp but he unbuckles his belt. "I haven't.. in a while.."

"That's okay.." you smile at him, helping him pull down his pants and briefs, running your nails over his solid girth, and he immediately rises to the occasion. "You were shy before, but not now," you notice, and give his cock a couple of gentle tugs before taking him into your waiting mouth, just the tip, and letting him go in as deep as he wants.

Javier speeds up, fingers digging into your hips as all your cries fill the room. He comes, filling your ass as he grunts savagely, causing you in turn to come, clenching around Frankie who buries himself deep inside as he lets go. Once Javier pulls away Dave takes over, gripping your hips and moving you against him.

You finger your lonely pussy, unable to make yourself feel as good as any of these men have. “Oh god, I want all of you at once.. please!” You beg.

Marcus approaches you and lays beneath you as Dave moves away, scoots up so he’s practically standing over you. Joel claims your mouth and Javier lets you pump him with your fist. Frankie approaches from behind and at the same time Marcus enters you from beneath. Two men fuck your cunt, stretching you, ruining you, and all you can do is give them what they want and then ask for more.. one man in your mouth, in your hand, in your ass.. you are working for every penny just as Dave said.

You're practically dazed by the countless feelings of pleasure coming from every man inside you, the way they move, the way they taste, how their hands grope your ass or your breasts, your hips.. you're just a receptacle for them, a plaything. This allows your brain to soak everything in without having to think. Just feeling. None of them really care about your pleasure, not at this point. You're just a means to an end, and you like it. You've never felt more alive.

"God!" you gasp as you feel yet another wave of absolute euphoria threaten to take you under. You don't even bother to hold back. As soon as you come you feel them all come with you, like tiny explosions set off in a chain. You gulp down Joel's spunk as Dave spills himself inside your ass, and Marcus and Frankie throb then release, one only seconds after the other. Javier takes control of himself from you and spurts his cum onto your face. For the first time ever in your life, you squirt, gasping at the relief and suddenness of it. The six of you try hard to catch your breath, all of you taking in the moments of this night.

"I don't think I'll be able to cum for weeks," Joel says, chuckling as he pulls up his pants.

Showered and dressed, you leave in a skimpy outfit that covers more than the lingerie did, as Dave uses the escort agency's app to send you a very generous tip from himself and the rest of the guys. The guys, cleaned up and all in relaxed moods, watch the game, not even upset that they missed most of the second half. You take your money and leave, blowing a kiss to the guys.

"God damn, you hired a good one," Javier mutters to Dave.

"Let's make this an annual thing," Dave smirks. "Next one's on you, Peña."

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[josephquinnswhore]

hiking - joel miller x female reader

summary: as a family, you go on a hike with your daughter.

word count: 1k

content warning: joel wanting to have another baby omlll, NO smut. Fluff!! Dad joel.

a/n: the second photo (of the waterfall) is my own. Do not edit or repost without permission!!!! Took this today while on a hike hehe.

The burning ache in your calves serve as a reminder to you that you’re not the woman you once were. Activities like this, hiking, walking along a perfectly cured tar track was more of an effort than it had ever been. You’d grown a bit slack in your usual adventures, ones that are demanding now; were so simple back then.

Now, there’s the ache in your back that hasn’t left since you’d entered your third trimester years ago, it’s a constant reminder of why you haven’t had a second child after Sarah.

An ache constricts in your chest, pneumonia wracks your lungs, burning and causing strain on your breathing. You carry a small bag on your back, a few water bottles and some snacks for Sarah, not to mention your asthma puffer. Joel had insisted, in case you’d collapse, he was more worried than your mother most days.

He didn’t want you out of the house, his face almost turning white when you’d brought up the idea of going hiking like this, for the first time since Sarah had been born, nonetheless. She was almost three now. He’d been keeping a close eye on you, turning back to make sure you’re okay. Offering that subtle smile, supportive.

The tar track is slippery, bright green moss has grown in between the cracks of the concrete, making it slippery. You’re conscious of it now, making a mental note to watch your step.

“Nearly there darlin’, you’re doin’ great.” Joel praised softly as he stopped, turning back to wait for you, where you linger a few paces back, keeping a mindful eye on Sarah to make sure she didn’t wonder off track. Joel had her though, he did. He was always aware, always scanning for anything that could or might be a threat or hazard to his little girl.

“C’here baby girl. Hold daddies hand.” He’d murmur for the tenth time, his giant hand contorts around her own, and Sarah giggles.

The sight warms your heart, swelling with pride and adoration. This was your family, your husband. You’d picked the right man, you’d known it since you met him.

“Come on mommy!” Sarah fleets with joy and excitement. It’s enough for you to push through the burn on each inhale.

“I’m gonna get ya baby!” You put your hands up, mocking a monster, roaring as you take big stomps towards her as she tries to drag Joel along to run.

“Run daddy, run! Mommy’s a scary monster!” Joel plays along, gasping dramatically as he lets Sarah lead him up the path.

The sound of water is thunderous and distracting, too loud for Sarah to keep up her charade of playing monsters. She tilts her head. “What’s that noise?”

“That’s the waterfall, baby, what we came to see.” Joel explains, pointing to the huge waterfall. It’s hundreds of meters deep, the water is brown, rushing through the rocks down into the pool of stagnant water below, where the water begins to foam. A small family of ducks occupy the water.

Sarah squeals in joy as she sees a peek of the waterfall from her height, the trees obscure her view. “I wanna see! I wanna see more daddy!”

“Just a few more steps baby, then we can get a real good look.” Joel encourages with a big toothy smile, turning to you, ensuring you get the hint that the encouragement was meant for you too.

The lookout is stunning, fenced all around, and safe. You remember the view, from before you fell pregnant. It hadn’t changed a bit. The rain sprinkles down onto you, and Sarah rushes up to see the waterfall.

“Wow. Water!” She exclaims, trying to show Joel. “Look daddy, a bird!”

It’s clear she was in awe of how many animals she’d seen, pointing out every duck, bird and bug she could see.

Lifting Sarah up against your chest, you give her a better view, clear of the obstruction of the fence. One her little body couldn’t yet compromise. “Ain’t that pretty?” You murmur softly to her, pressing a small kiss to her cheek.

“Turn around darlin’.” Joel calls softly, getting your attention, you turn around and Joel’s getting his new phone out. An iPhone he was still learning to use for work.

He fumbled for a second before snapping a family photo of all of you. “We’re gonna have to find room on the wall for this,” he hums.

“Show me that,” you scold lightly, and you grimace once you see the photo. Your cheeks are red and you look sick. You are sick—but that’s besides the point.

Joel knows you’re about to protest, to whinge or huff. “You look beautiful. This is us remaking memories with out little girl. Maybe good enough to have another?” He pries softly.

He’s been bugging you for another baby. You almost give in.

“My backs already killing me,” a simple reminder and he makes a noise of resignation. “But I didn’t say no,” you murmur. The thought of a second baby was on your mind too.

His brown eyes twinkle with hope. He’d have to bring this up later at home.

The rain trickles down a little harder, and Sarah starts to get a little unsettled. It’s cold and wet and the wind is picking up. “Come on baby, let’s walk back to the car.” You offer your hand out for her to hold, and Sarah shakes her head, tears welling up in her brown eyes.

“No! Cuddle!” She demands, holding her arms up for you to pick up her.

“I can’t baby, you know mommy can’t carry you all the way back,” you explain softly.

Joel steps in. He won’t allow you to pick Sarah up while you’re sick, or while your back hurts.

“Daddy will put you up on his shoulders, how’s that sound baby?” Sarah looks up at him and nods, her cheeks and nose are turning red.

He swings her up, and she sits on his shoulders, she clings onto the curls on top his head. Your fingers fumble to find your phone in your jumper pocket, snapping an image, unbeknownst to Joel.

“You gonna make it back?” Joel asked, concern abrupt in his tone.

“I’ll be okay.” You reassure softly. “Let’s get going.”

Maybe—you would do this more often from now on.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Melt

"And if I die because you made me melt, oh well."

Summary: You and Frankie spend a hot summer day by the pool

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, semi-public shenanigans (we're assuming there's a big, tall fence around the pool lmao), Frankie being our 🐱 eating king, Frankie being the sweetest and so obsessed with you, poor Pope probably needs to clean his pool after these two leave, reader wears a bathing suit, can swim and can get sunburned

A/N: HEY HOMIES, IT'S YA GIRL!!!!! What better way to celebrate National Catfish Day than with a lil poolside Frankie 🤪 It has been hotter than Satan's ballsack out here in the midwest, so this song is dedicated to this ongoing heatwave and this song that I am absolutely obsessed with and is SO Frankie coded 😭 This is the first thing that I have worked on since May so apologies in advance for bein' a little rusty, but I'm excited to finally be back on the writing train again!!! ily all, big forehead kisses for each of you MWAH!!!! 🥹 poorly beta'd bc that's how i roll

Love it or hate it, if there was one thing that you could always count on, it was the fact that summers in south Florida were hot. 

Really fucking hot. 

So when Pope had offered up his pool for you and Frankie to use while he was out of town for the week, it was a no brainer that the two of you had ecstatically accepted his invitation. 

“We really owe Pope for this one, huh?” You smirked, setting down your beach bag on one of the lounge chairs spread across the pool deck, pulling out some sunscreen and towels for you and Frankie. 

“Yeah, I guess we do.” Frankie sighed, nodding his head in agreement, admiring the crystal blue water sparkling in the heat of the hot summer sun, hands on his hips as he looked out over the pool. 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you stood behind him, secretly whipping out your phone to take a picture of Frankie inspecting the pool before quickly texting it to Pope, knowing what a kick he’d get out of it. 

You: Thanks for letting us use the pool! New pool boy is taking his job very seriously. 🫡

Pope: Haha. Would have looked better if he showed up in a bikini. Have fun u 2. 

“What are you laughing at?” Frankie asked, turning around to the sounds of your sneaky snickers before feeling his own phone buzz in his pocket, looking down to see a text from Pope. 

Pope: Your wife thinks you’d make a good pool boy. Told her you need a bikini first. Have fun with Mrs. Fish today.

Pope: Not too much fun though. 🤨

Frankie: Sorry to disappoint. 

Frankie: What’s that supposed to mean? 

Pope: I just cleaned the pool before I left. Don’t need any baby fish swimming around in there if you know what I mean 🐟 💦 lol

Frankie: Jesus christ, Pope.

Frankie shook his head as he slipped his phone back into his pocket as he made his way over to you, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest. 

“You think I’d make a good pool boy, huh?” He smirked, planting a chaste kiss in your lips as the two of you laughed. 

“The best. But only if you give me another kiss and put some sunscreen on me so I don’t turn into a lobster.” You teased, kissing him right back before pulling away to grab the sunscreen bottle, passing it off to him. 

“Fair enough.” 

As he took the bottle from you, starting to shake it up, Frankie couldn’t help stop and watch in awe as you began to remove your coverup. Underneath, it revealed the little, strappy, bright yellow bikini you had just bought, deciding that today would be a good choice to show it off for the first time with just you and your husband together. 

“Fuck me…” Frankie whispered under his breath, his tongue darting out of his mouth and swiping over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down, admiring every sun-kissed inch of your soft skin and the way the fabric of your swimsuit hugged your curves. “Is this- fuck, is this new?” he asked softly, his sweet brown eyes just about popping out of his head, trying to use every ounce of self composure to even form a coherent question. 

“Do you like it? I got it a few days ago when I was out. Figured I could use a new one.” You blushed, biting down on your lip at Frankie’s reaction, wondering how in the world he still managed to make you feel as beautiful as he did the first night he’d met you after all your time spent together. 

“Can I show you?” Frankie asked, running his hands along your waist, gently toying with the strings holding your swimsuit bottoms together. 

“Show me what?” 

“Show you how much I like it?” He responded, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers slowly began to undo the bow tied around your hips while he gently nipped at your neck, making your stomach swell with arousal. 

“Mhmmmmmm.” You nodded, carefully backing up until your legs hit the lounge chair behind you, Frankie gently guiding you to sit down and lay back while he nestled himself between your legs, draping each one over his bare, broad shoulders, his tanned and freckled skin glowing in the blazing afternoon sun. 

Frankie wasted no time planting soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, the familiar scratch of his beard and mustache against your skin making you moan in eager anticipation as you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your swimsuit bottoms. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that? I’m so lucky.” He whispered between kisses along the meat of your thighs before stopping at your core, letting his fingers brush against the fabric of your swimsuit, sneaking under the material just enough to feel how wet you had already become in the few short moments since you had sat down. 

“Seems like you're pretty wet for not even getting in the pool yet, Hermosa.” Frankie teased, the ghosting of his fingers along your cunt making you whine as you propped your head up to see the devilish smirk between his cheeks. 

Almost painfully slowly, Frankie untied the first, then second bow holding your bottoms together on each hip, watching your swimsuit fall to the ground, revealing your pussy, slick and puffy, worked up from Frankie’s touch. 

“So pretty…” He cooed, letting his fingers drag across your cunt, collecting your arousal and rubbing at your clit, already aching to be touched. 

Frankie was nothing if not a methodical man, memorizing every twitch and hitched breath beneath his touch, learning all the things that absolutely drove you wild.

Knowing that he could be the only one to make you feel this good got him off more than anything else ever could.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way your lips fell to a perfectly parted “O” as he pressed more pressure against your sensitive nub, and how they fell even wider as he pressed two of his fingers into your entrance, gently curling them to bump against the soft, spongy spot inside you that had you clenching around his hand. 

“Oh Frankie… Fuck…” You whimpered, your head falling back as Frankie’s fingers were soon followed by his tongue, licking a long, broad strip across your cunt, ​​putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to make that all too familiar sweet tingling sensation to start build in your stomach. 

Frankie’s tongue danced in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you with just his fingers. That, combined with the meticulous and skilled motions of his tongue had the coil in your belly beginning to tighten further and further. 

Your hand shot down between your parted legs, reaching to grab a fistful of Frankie’s brown, curly locks, thick and sweaty from the heat, tugging just hard enough to force his gaze up towards you, your eyes locking with his rich, brown ones. 

“F-Frankie-” Was all you were able to mutter as he continued with his fingers to press against your g-spot, slick coating his digits with each stroke. He licked one more strip along your pussy before placing soft kisses on your clit and the inside of your thighs, peeking up at you with a boyish grin. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. Wanna taste you all over me.” Frankie moaned, the low rumble of his words making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as he dove back between your legs, wrapping his free arm around one of your thighs, firmly holding you in place. 

Curving his fingers ever so slightly and latching his lips around your clit, you knew it was only a matter of moments before Frankie was about to make you fall apart completely. You could feel your legs begin to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter around his fingers, able to utter nothing but a “F-fuck…” as you felt your orgasm rip through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins and soaked Frankie below you. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum for him with everything that you had in you, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become. Your pussy was slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the way Frankie had fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” You whispered under your breath, still trying to regain your composure as you looked down at a satisfied Frankie, wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand with a smirk. 

“Always taste so sweet, Hermosa. You’re so fucking hot, I swear you’d make me melt faster than the sun.” 

The two of you both couldn’t help but snort at Frankie’s cheesy comment, sitting up as you giggled to grab Frankie’s face and bring him in for a long, deep kiss, the taste of you still fresh on his tongue. 

“You are such a cheeseball, Fransisco Morales. I can’t believe that- Frankie! Frankie! Put me down! No, no, no, no, you better not-” But before you could finish the rest of your sentence, Frankie had already picked you up out of your chair, flung you over his shoulder and had you flailing your arms and legs as he carried you towards the edge of the pool, jumping in with you mid-way through your poorly fought protest. 

Your heads bobbed to the surface, still in a fit of laughter as you floated in the refreshing cool of the sparkling pool water, you wrapped your legs around Frankie’s waist, draping your arms over his shoulders while he pulled you closer to his chest. 

“Sorry, mi amor, what were you saying?” Frankie teased, raising a playful eyebrow at you as he grinned with his goofy smile, making you over dramatically roll your eyes at him. 

“One, that you are the biggest goof I’ve ever met and I love you for it,” You snickered, plating a soft kiss on his plush lips, “and two, I think I can practically hear Pope screaming at you for the fact I’m half naked in his pool.” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”   

Taglist

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby

@fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha

@jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed

@pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns

@missladym1981 @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color

@persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow

@vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller

@mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring

@itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[whiskeyncoke-redux]

I’ve always thought it would be fun to be a seat-filler at award shows, and now I can’t stop thinking about sitting next to a flirty Pedro Pascal.. (especially since they say you aren���t supposed to talk to the actors!)

The idea of him introducing himself (as if he isn’t a famous actor), sharing candy he snuck in with you or trying to make you laugh while on air and having to shoo away the award show employees that try to intervene. Him just being smitten with reader the whole night.. okay, I’d *love* to hear your take if it interests you!

Hi Nonny dearest, sorry it took me so long to respond, I just had to get my thoughts together because I LOVED this idea so much!! So here we go, hope you like it.

The Seat Filler

Pedro Pascal x Reader

A/N: here's another one, hope you all like it. No hateful comments please. Again I gotta shout out @ziggyrocket for the support ❤️. It's 6:32 in the morning, apparently I don't sleep like a normal person, I'm on my second cup of coffee, so any typos or whatever are my bad... and Maxwell house coffee's.

Warnings: none (well, corny jokes I guess)

----------------------------------------------------

You had signed up for this gig half on a dare and half out of curiosity. Being a new sign-up, you hadn’t expected to be called in right away, but yet, here you were, in a borrowed gown, in a theater mixed with some of the biggest stars and regular people just like you: seat fillers. 

You remembered the main rules the director told you: 1) look like you’re enjoying yourself, always smile and 2) most importantly DO NOT talk to the actors, meaning the actual celebrities. You nodded and murmured your understanding along with everyone else who was there to work as fillers, not really thinking anything of it. What celebrity would want to talk to me anyway? You mused as you took your seat.

You looked around the theater, excitement flooding through you at the idea of being in such a place surrounded by people you had admired from afar, in magazines, and online. You took a deep breath to steady yourself; you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. You glanced at the empty seat next to you on your left and wondered who’d be in it.  On your right was another filler and on their right was another empty seat.

The filler next to you leaned over slightly and whispered, “Who do you think they’re gonna put next to us?”

You shrugged. “No idea, hope it’s someone good.”

He nodded in agreement, then a look came over his face as he glanced over your shoulder.  You turned your head to look and you blinked hard as you recognized the man coming towards you, and taking the vacant seat next to you. While the man next to you was busy getting settled,  you glanced back over at your fellow seat filler, whose jaw had semi-dropped. You both exchanged excited looks, then you nudged him lightly with your elbow and he shook himself, cleared his throat lightly and sat up. You both faced forward, determined to be on your best behavior. 

Unfortunately for you, your newest seat mate had different ideas. Pedro knew the whole deal with seat fillers and how they were told not to speak to anyone. But he felt a mischievous streak go through him when he saw you glance at him briefly. 

“Hi,” he said, taking his seat. “I’m Pedro Pascal.”

“Hi,” you said back, nervously glancing around to make sure that no one saw you speaking to him. 

The two of you smiled at each other, before you turned back to face the front. He took a few seconds to study your profile as you sat there, determinedly facing the front, sitting as still as a statue. 

He glanced down and saw that your elbow was resting on the shared arm rest. With a small smirk, he placed his on the arm rest too, bumping yours. 

You looked over at him, smiled awkwardly and whispered a hurried, “Sorry,” before moving your arm and facing forward again.

After a few minutes, you placed your elbow back on the arm rest, and, noticing that, Pedro, bumped your elbow again with his. You moved your arm again. And then a few more minutes later, you placed it back again, only for him to bump you again. After the fourth time this happened, you looked over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow and he just smiled innocently at you.

A few minutes later you felt him shift next to you, you looked over and saw him pulling out a bag of Skittles. You tried to hide your smile, but he noticed and nudged you slightly and offered you some. You looked around, making sure that there was no one watching, and then you held open your palm and he shook some of the candies into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered and popped a few into your mouth. 

A little over an hour into the show, you could feel him getting restless next to you. You figured the sugar had gotten to him. After the Skittles, he had pulled out a candy bar, broke it in half and shared it with you. He fidgeted in his seat, tapping his fingers on his knee and the seat. You tried to ignore it, but you had to admit it was more than a little distracting.

“Are you okay?” you whispered hurriedly to him.

He turned to you and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you though?” you asked, gesturing to his jiggling knee.

He smiled. “Yeah.” But his knee kept jiggling, you had to suppress a laugh at that. 

He noticed you struggling to keep a straight face, and decided to aim the restless energy he had at you. He was going to make you laugh, really laugh, by the end of the show. His mind was made up.

He thought for a moment and then he leaned over to you, “Psst, hey.”

“Yeah?” you answered looking straight ahead.

“I have a question.”

“Mmhmm?”

“Why did the bicycle fall over?”

You were confused. “I’m sorry?”

“I said: why did the bicycle fall over?”

“Uhh, I don’t know. Why?”

“Because it was two tired.”

You turned to look at him after that, he laughed at the look on your face.

“That was corny,” you said, shaking your head, but pursing your lips to keep from laughing.

“Oh, that reminds me of another one,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. He looked around,  cleared his throat, and then asked, “What does corn say when it gets a compliment?”

You shook your head and shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to say anything but wanting to hear the punchline, you turned to him.

Barely able to suppress his giggles, he answered,”Aw, shucks!”

You put your hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh you felt escaping your lips.

“Okay, one more,” he announced. 

“Oh, lord,” you groaned.

“It’s a good one, I promise.”

You waved your hand slightly for him to go ahead, knowing he would anyway.

“Okay, why are pirates called pirates?”

You bit your lip trying not to laugh. “I don’t know why?”

He leaned closer. “They just arrrr!” he whispered the last word in a bad pirate accent. 

You couldn’t help it, you snorted, then quickly covered your mouth to stifle your giggles, but he’d heard it, and he smiled at that.

“Good one right?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, oh my god, that was bad, but…” you couldn’t finish as a fresh wave of giggles overtook you. Your shoulders shook with your suppressed laughter.

He smiled and laughed along with you. For the rest of the ceremony, he would lean over and whisper comments about one person’s speech, or another’s outfit, nothing malicious or mean, just something to make you smile. And he always had a bad joke or two to whisper to you. 

By the end of the program, your cheeks were hurting from all the smiling and your stomach was sore from the laughing. You couldn’t help it, a few had escaped, luckily it was during the jokes the emcee told, so it looked as if you were enjoying the show. Truth be told, you couldn’t remember what had happened during the show, or who had won which award. If someone had quizzed you on it after, you surely would have failed; but you felt it was worth it because being seated next to Pedro had made it the best night of your life. You hadn’t laughed that hard, or enjoyed yourself that much in a long time.

After the show was over, you headed out with your fellow seat filler.

“You seemed to really be enjoying yourself,” he said as you filed out into the lobby.

You nodded with a huge grin on your face. “Yeah, I did.”

“I could tell,” he said, nodding, “what was he saying to you to make you laugh so much?”

You shrugged. “Oh, just a few jokes, and comments that’s all,” you said lightly.

He looked at you curiously, but when he realized you weren’t going to elaborate he commented, “Lucky you. The one they put next to me was on her phone the entire time.” He shook his head. “At least you got some entertainment.”

You two chatted for a little more, making plans to grab a late dinner with him and some of the rest of the seat fillers. Before you could leave, however, you felt someone tap you on your shoulder.

“Okay, I have another one,” you heard Pedro’s voice in your ear before you could turn around. “Just thought of it.”

You looked at him. “All right, go on.”

“Which bear is the most condescending?”

You started laughing then answered, “what?”

“A pan-duh!”

You burst out laughing along with him. “Where on earth did you even hear these?”

He shrugged. “Internet.”

“They are so bad,” you said, still chuckling.

“And yet, you laughed. Therefore they did their job,” he pointed out.

“True enough,” you agreed, “thanks though.”

“For what?”

“Making this event… well, eventful. I was prepared to be bored out of my mind, sitting there like a statue, smiling a fake smile the entire night.”

He smiled at you. “Well, I’m glad I could help. So, what are you planning on doing after this?”

You shrugged. “I was gonna grab something to eat with some of the rest of the seat fillers…”

“Oh, okay, I'm doing the same.” He nodded and looked away. You noticed that for a second he looked slightly nervous, but before you could get a good look, his face cleared and he turned back to look at you.

“I guess I should let you go then…” you said, turning to catch up with your friends.

“Wait, one more question.”

You stopped and looked back at him. “What's up?”

“Well, you know, I have a lot more jokes…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, and, well, all my friends and family have heard them. But you haven’t, at least I’m pretty sure you haven’t….”

You nodded. “I haven’t, I don’t think.”

“Good, well, I shall have to inflict them upon you, you know, if you don’t mind. Maybe over dinner tomorrow?”

You thought for a second. “I don’t mind at all,” you answered with a huge grin.

[milla-frenchy]

Morning waves

3k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Frankie Morales | ao3

Summary: you meet two men who are on a road trip. You like the same things: the ocean, surfing, dancing and having fun

Warnings: 18+ mdni. threesome MFM, praise kink, fingering, public sex, oral (m/f), piv, dp, anal play, rimming, anal, spit as lube, creampies

No age specified

a/n: this is a contribution to Jamie’s ocean challenge @mermaidgirl30 thank you for this great idea 👌🙏

I've wanted to write Frankie for a while, and even more so after reading “Down the hall” @frannyzooey 😍😍 and this challenge was perfect to introduce him as my new Pedro boy. 

Dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing, for the ideas, and for holding my hand with this one, as always 💕 🫶

Masterlist

*********

The first rays of sunshine were already warming you through the windows of your car. You were driving towards the ocean, ready to enjoy its waves. Every morning, very early, you were going to your favorite surf spot. This morning like the others, a few other surfers were also present. Between each set, you were all waiting on your boards, straddling them, letting yourself be carried away by their calm movement.

“You’re impressive”, you heard behind you.

You turned around, and met the most beautiful, sweetest brown eyes you had ever seen.

“Frankie, another set is coming.” You didn't look at the man who had spoken, immediately turning your gaze towards the horizon and new waves that were forming. You surfed that set and a few more. 

When you were returning to the beach, you saw the man called Frankie taking off his wetsuit. The man next to him was doing the same. They smiled at you, when you approached them.

“Hi! I’m Joel, and this is Frankie.”

“Hi, guys!”

“Nice waves!” Frankie’s smile was really sweet. And cute.

“Yeah! Where are you from? I’ve never seen you before. And with that drawl…Texas, I guess?”

Joel laughed and replied “yeah, Austin. We’re on a road trip. Coming from northern California, heading to the south. Are you from here?”

“Yeah, I live here. I’m on holidays, enjoying the ocean.”

“That’s great! Seems like heaven here. Do you know any cool bars? We’ve just arrived, and we’re gonna stay for some time in this place,” Frankie asked. 

“Yeah, there’s ‘The lagoon’. I'm gonna be there around 6 p.m., if you wanna join me?

“Sure! We’ll see you there.”

You spent the evening with them at the bar. Frankie and Joel had been friends for a long time, they told you about their trip, their lives in Texas. Joel worked as a contractor and Frankie was an ex-military, doing jobs with Joel from time to time. They were nice, cool, and made you laugh a lot. They were not flirty nor pushy, and you felt good and safe in their company.

Joel had a certain self-confidence, and was more direct than Frankie. His brown hair was shorter. His smile was devastating. Every evening, when the three of you met again, he wore jeans and a blue or black T-shirt which accentuated his torso and biceps.

Frankie was a little shyer. His slightly longer hair called for your fingers with its brown curls. His eyes and smile were incredibly soft. He often wore lighter pants, gray or brown t-shirts. A cap that he only took off to surf. Both men were beautiful.

You spent the next evenings with them, dancing and drinking shots at The lagoon. Every day you looked forward to seeing them at the beach, then at the bar. They were doing pretty well at surfing, asking for some advice from time to time, and making great progress. 

One night, the three of you were on the beach, hoping to catch some Northern Lights. And you weren't disappointed. The sky was colored with pink, purple and blue lights, while you were lying next to each other on the sand, a little closer than usual. And when Frankie kissed your forehead and Joel your cheek as you were lying on the blanket between them, you felt heat in your core. You saw them differently for the first time.

The Lagoon was crowded. You sat on a stool at the counter, sipping your cocktail until you saw Joel enter the bar. He smiled at you and you wondered how many hearts he had broken. He was so hot. He joined you, hugged you and said “hey, sweetheart” with his Texan drawl.

“Isn’t Frankie here?” you asked him.

“He should be soon. He went to get a tattoo.”

“What, now?”

“Yeah”, he laughed.

You two danced, his hands settled on your hips. Slightly more intimate than usual. He smelled good. He smelled like the sun and the beach. He ran his hand over your back, which your summer dress barely covered. And when your eyes met, something was different.

You walked back to the counter, and he was smiling as he was drinking his beer. His eyes were fixed on you.

“What?” You asked him, smiling too.

“You’re damn pretty, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened slightly, hearing him. It was the first time he told you something like that. So directly. Even though last night, on the beach, the atmosphere was different between the three of you. Even though two minutes ago, when you were dancing, you felt the warmth of his fingers on your skin, and your hair stood up from the desire for him.

He waited for a few seconds, checking on your reaction. Took another sip. When he saw you smile at him again, he leaned towards you, his nose brushing against your cheek, his hand resting on your waist. You felt goosebumps again. Some electricity between you. And you saw in his eyes that he was feeling the same thing.

“Wanna have some fun tonight?”

You felt heat reach your cheeks but you nodded and murmured, “yeah.”

“Yeah?”

He got up, stood between your knees while you were still sitting on the stool, and leaned forward to kiss you. You felt your heart rate speed up. He placed his hands on your bare thighs and caressed them, slightly pushing the fabric up, as you ran your fingers over his biceps. Then he slipped one hand between your legs. Slowly. Stroking your inner thigh. You whimpered when his fingers brushed against your pussy through your panties.

“You want more, darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel...”

“You gonna let me finger you in here?” he asked, his cheek against yours. His soft beard against your skin.

“Yeah…”

He slid your panties to the side, and his fingers brushed against your folds, making you moan into his neck. He looked up and said, “hey, Frankie.”

You felt shy and tightened your thighs against his legs. He kissed your cheek then said in your ear, on the side where Frankie was standing to make sure he would hear “I’m sure he’d love to touch you too,” before looking back at you. His fingers were still brushing against your delicate skin, and you really wanted to feel him more. To calm the fire, burning you from the inside.

You looked at him, then turned your head towards Frankie. His stare was still soft, but not only. You saw the desire for you in his eyes. 

“Do it Frankie”, you told him. At that moment you didn't care about anything else anymore. The crowded bar. The people who could see you, and wonder what the three of you were doing. Or knowing too well what you were doing.

“Are you wet, baby?” Frankie asked.

You nodded and whined, the second Joel pushed a finger in your core.

“She’s soaked”, Joel said, nuzzling your neck, and you bit your lip. 

“Damn, baby,” Frankie moved closer, the two men now standing in front of you. When one of Frankie's fingers joined Joel's in your pussy, your fists clenched their shirts. One of them stroked your clit with his thumb, but you didn’t know who. It turned you on even more. Their fingers slid into your wetness, pumping your pussy at the same rhythm, and you tried to hold back your moans even if it was getting more and more difficult.

“You're gonna come for us?” You shook your head “I…I can’t. Not here. Too many people.”

“Forget about them. Soak our fingers, baby. And then we’ll have some time together in our van if you want.”

“Yeah…Yes. Fuck.” You felt their eyes fixed on you. They were close to you, so close, protecting you from the eyes of others. Your pussy tightened around their fingers and you were trembling more and more. You felt another thumb near your clit that soon replaced the other one, and whimpered. Your pussy was trickling, and they could have pushed more fingers in easily.

“Come for us, sweetheart. Right here, in this bar. God, you’re fucking hot.”

You bit your lip as you came on their fingers, your pussy clenching desperately on them. They kept fingering you through it, until one of them put your panties back in place, then your dress. You watched Joel lick his finger with a look full of desire, and your arousal increased even more. 

“Take me to your van, please. I need…I need more”, you breathed.

Frankie kissed your cheek, and Joel placed his hand on the small of your back as you got off the stool. Your legs were shaky and he held your elbow until you reached the parking lot then the van. Frankie offered to come to the back with him, on the mattress that they had already set up for the night, without knowing how it would end. You both lay there as Joel started driving. You didn't know where and right now you didn't care. Frankie was already leaning towards you, kissing your cheek then your neck. Your fingers ran through his soft curls. His hand rested against your face at first, then he brought it to his mouth. Licking the finger you had come on, just as Joel had done a few minutes before.

“Damn baby, you taste so good. Can I go down on you?”

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

“Fuck…Ok.”

The van was swaying on a bumpy road when Frankie knelt between your thighs, and took off your dress, then your panties. He brought them to his nose and breathed them slowly, keeping his eyes on you, and the vision was intoxicating. The way they wanted you was driving you crazy. He turned the front of his cap backwards, and lay down between your thighs. He growled as he licked a long stripe between your folds.

“Jesus Christ, Frankie…you lucky bastard”, Joel said.

Frankie was already lapping at your pussy, and he was good at it. So good that you already felt a new orgasm building, while he was drinking all your wetness, his thumb twirling on your clit.

“Frankie…oh my god”, you whimpered. 

You heard Joel unzip his jeans and pull out his cock. “You’re so hot that Joel can’t help fisting his cock while driving, baby” he said, before licking your folds again.

“Fuck, of course I do. All these moans are killing me. How does she taste? Tell me.”

“The sweetest taste, man...” He grabbed your thighs to pull you closer to him. As if he wanted more, always more, and you couldn’t stop moaning.

“Jesus...” Joel growled, as you heard the sound of his wrist fucking his cock.

Your fingers were lost in Frankie’s brown curls, while his nose rubbed perfectly against your clit and his tongue roamed your pussy.

“Frankie…”

“Yeah baby, tell me.”

“Your fingers, please, need your fingers.”

“Like this, mmm?” he asked, pushing two fingers in you.

“Yeah…your tongue too, please.”

His lips surrounded your clit, sucking gently, before giving way to his tongue. His wrist gently pumped your pussy and you felt your wetness running down your folds to the sheets.

“Fuck, baby…I can hear the pretty little noises of your pussy from here, you’re so fucking wet.”

“I know, I know, oh my god, Frankie!” You squeezed his head between your thighs when you came, letting him lick your folds until you stopped shaking. The van's engine was off, but you didn't realize you had stopped. You heard the sound of the waves as Joel opened his door to join you in the back.

“Fuck sweetheart, look at that… he ate you good, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah…fuck”, you breathed out.

Frankie shifted aside slightly and Joel lay down, his shoulders between your knees. He caressed your folded thighs, and delicately licked your wetness, being careful not to stimulate your overly sensitive clit.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’. Lemme eat ya just a little, ok? “ he said, moving his hand up your sweaty stomach, to a breast that he grabbed. Frankie kissed your thigh, while he caressed your other breast. You moaned again, your stomach rising rapidly with your heavy breathing. Joel’s beard rubbed against your inner thighs. He ran his tongue flat through your folds, sometimes down to your tight ring. Before going back up again, tirelessly. You imagined their hard cocks and you couldn’t wait to feel them in you. 

“You want us to fuck you, baby?”

You nodded, “yeah, need your cocks.”

“Damn, could do this for hours. How do you want us?”

“I huh… I don’t know, I’ve never done that…with two men.”

They looked at each other then Frankie said “we’re gonna undress and we’ll see how it goes, ok?”

“Yeah, seems good.”

“If you’re not comfortable with something, you tell us right away, ok? We’re all here to have fun. Ok, darlin’?”

You nodded and smiled. They were so considerate and careful with you. You helped Frankie unzip his pants and take them off, then his boxers, and held your breath when you saw his cock. “We’ll go slow,  baby”. “We?” You widened your eyes and turned to Joel, already in his underwear, taking off his t-shirt. “Oh fuck”, you said when you saw his bulge. You brushed his crotch and he spread his thighs wider. He was so hard, and so big too. You whispered “fuck...” again, before getting on all fours, facing him. You took his cock out of his boxers, the precum glistening on his red tip. You spread it with your thumb and jerked his cock, while Frankie was caressing the roundness of your buttocks, kneeling behind you. You licked the tip, letting Joel’s taste run down your mouth and then your throat.

“You’re ready for me, baby?”

“Yes, Frankie.”

He nestled his cock at your entrance, pushing in. You whined when he thrust deeper, gripping your hips as leverage. And for a minute you didn’t move, Joel’s cock in your hand, catching your breath. Frankie kept thrusting until he bottomed out. Pushing on your walls.  And you started to suck Joel’s cock, his hands on your head, but letting you lead the pace.

You moved your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on Frankie’s cock. He wasn’t moving, letting you lead too. Your mouth on Joel’s shaft followed the movement of your hips at the same pace as you impaled yourself on the cock, piercing you.

“Fuck, fuck. Sucking me so good.”

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. So good for my cock.” You loved how they were praising you. Frankie’s hands roamed your body. Your back, your waist, your hips, as your thumbs caressed Joel’s balls, your head still bobbing on his shaft, your lips gradually getting used to his size.

You pulled him out of your mouth and licked his tip, looking at him you asked, “Frankie, will you let Joel fuck me?”

“Of course, anything you want.”

You lay on your back, inviting Joel to come between your thighs. He lay there, his cock in his hand, and pushed in. Frankie lay against you, and turned your face towards him. Kissing you as Joel thrust in.

“Damn, sweetheart…Frankie was right, you’re so tight. Squeezing me so hard, fuck…”

You whined in Frankie’s mouth while Joel was kissing your neck. He thrust in slowly before pulling back. Repeating the movement endlessly, while your legs spread wide gave him full access. Frankie leaned down and took one of your breasts in his hand, sucking on the nipple, his lips wrapped around it. Joel gave you a forehead kiss, his thick cock buried in you. Sometimes Frankie would slide his hand up to your clit, rubbing it lightly, and your pussy would contract on Joel's cock, making him groan. Their mouths and hands were brushing your skin constantly. 

They took turns between your legs, drawing two new orgasms out of you. Seeing them, feeling them fucking you, one then the other, was turning you on desperately and your pussy was weeping. When one of them was kissing you, searching for your tongue with his, the other was kissing your neck, your cheek, sucking a nipple. You loved feeling their mouths on you at the same time.

They fucked you, one then the other, and they never seemed to get tired, filling your pussy perfectly each in their own way. Until you wanted more, and needed more.

“More? Tell us what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want you both…at the same time.”

“Oh, baby. You want our two cocks filling your two holes?” said Frankie, his cock buried in your cunt.

“Yeah, I’d like to try…”

“It’s ok, baby. We’ll go slow.”

“Yeah. Frankie?”

Frankie nodded, pulling out of you. 

“Get on me, sweetheart.”

Joel lay on his back and you straddled him, grabbing his cock and sinking on it. You brushed his cheek and kissed him, before pressing your chest against his, giving free access to Frankie.

He spread your buttocks, your ring was glistening by the wetness that had been flowing there continuously. He passed his thumb slowly, lingering very lightly over it, as you rolled your pelvis slowly towards Joel. Then Frankie leaned down and started to lick it, pointing his tongue against your tight muscle. His hands now gripping your ass, he softened it under the tip of his tongue. Sometimes dropping his saliva on it, and lightly pushing his thumb in. Then a little deeper. He did it patiently, taking his time to prepare you. He was feeling his cock twitching. Your head resting on Joel's shoulder, you were moaning continuously, overwhelmed by the cock in your pussy, and the tongue opening you little by little. They were so hot, they took care of you so well since the start of the evening at the Lagoon. Attentive to your desires, to your reactions. Slightly changing the pace or position depending on your respiration, the pressure of your hands.

Eventually, Frankie pulled away. “You still want it, baby?”

“Yes, yes. Just…go slow, please, Frankie.”

“Of course. Lemme wet my cock in her pussy a little, Joel”, he asked. You pulled away from Joel slightly and he pulled out, his cock rubbing against your clit. Frankie pushed his cock easily in your dripping pussy, fucking it with one hand on your hip, and his thumb on your ass. Joel placed his hand on your neck, his forehead against yours, and murmured “you gonna take us both, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yeah…Yeah, I’m gonna take you both, oh my god I can’t believe it’s happening…”

Franck grabbed his cock in his hand, and positioned it against your ring.

“Kiss me, sweetheart”, Joel muttured, stroking your hair. You looked up at him, his hands cupping your cheeks before coming to press his lips to yours. Quickly, his tongue sought yours, just as Frankie pushed in. You felt the muscle resisting at first, then gradually giving up. You whined in Joel’s mouth, his tongue never stopping brushing yours. You knew he wanted to make you forget the pain. Then he nibbled one of your lips, before licking it. Kissing you again. Until Frankie bottomed out, his balls against Joel's cock. He didn't stay buried and pulled back as slowly, before thrusting in again.

“Oh, fuck. Baby…it’s so good, fuck…”

“I can feel your cock Frankie, damn…are you ok, sweetheart?”

You nodded, unable to speak. Overwhelmed by all these emotions you were feeling. Your body was in the middle of theirs, and you felt fulfilled. Their hands were all over your upper body. Frankie’s mouth placed a thousand kisses on your shoulder blades and the back of your neck. Joel's hands caressed your breasts, your ass, your thighs. You heard them grunt and moan, in turn or together. You felt a new orgasm building, from rubbing your clit against Joel's lower abdomen.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come”, you whined.

“Come on baby, come again. Fuck, your ass is so good, baby.”

“Come on our cocks, sweetheart. Then we’ll fill you up. We’ll fill that pussy and that ass.”

“Oh fuck”, you whimpered, coming on their cocks, clenching them. You wondered if you hadn’t fainted, for a moment. 

You heard Frankie growling, and Joel calling you a “good girl”, just before he pulsed as deep as possible in you, followed by Frankie. 

You all froze, panting. Catching your breath. Then Frankie pulled back, placing one last kiss on your back. You pulled away from Joel after kissing him, and you lay against him. Frankie lay against you on the other side, spooning you, his hand on your hip. Their cum flowing from both of your sore holes.

You slept there, sometimes waking up during the night, feeling their bodies against yours or their arms around you. Snuggling against one of them then the other. 

When the rays of the sun woke the three of you and Frankie opened the van door, you had a direct view of the ocean. Its color was perfect. The most beautiful blue. And also these pastel, pink colors of the sky, at dawn. 

You spent the day with them. You surfed, took photos. Frankie’s freshly tattooed forearm with the word “adventure.” You looked at them so many times during that day. And every time your eyes met, you all blushed and giggled, thinking about the night you had spent.

You returned to the Lagoon, and didn't leave them until they finally gave up on the idea of going all the way to Southern California. They called you “our girl”. Their hands, tongues and cocks roaming every inch of your body, just as yours on theirs. They stayed with you until they had to return to Texas.

The day before, Frankie went to get another tattoo. Joel told you Frankie always got one at every place they visit, a tattoo of the best thing there. He showed it to you when he came back: a surfboard with your name on it. You hugged him so tight that he could barely breathe and couldn’t stop laughing, squeezed by your arms.

At the airport, they held you until the last minute. And your heart sank when they left.

A few months later, you were sitting at the same airport. Ready to board for Austin. So that they, in turn, could introduce you to their lives.

You looked at the sun through the large windows of the airport, and smiled. Life offers good surprises sometimes. Yours was Joel and Frankie.

Thank you for reading 🙏

***************

another Joel/reader/Frankie fic (different AU): Morning waves

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[umadosedepascal]

Quickie with Pedro

Sound On!

Ft. @missyorkswhore

It’s been months you don’t see each other, Pedro is very busy with work so are you.

With just one sassy message telling that he misses you so much, is a reason to meet him in the middle of the day at his hotel room for a quickie…

Pedro wants to taste you and get you ready for him. He loves to worship on you, holding your legs tight pulling you closer.

- No fingers this time, babe…

He knows how you like it and rub his sexy nose over your clit licking your lips up and down moaning every second, he makes you cry with pleasure when you get to the edge cumming on his mouth.

You open your eyes and see him rubbing into the bed, rocking hard, ready to fill you up..

-Hi…

[whxtedreams]

When You're Sick

Summary: Drabbles about how they would look after you when you're sick/unwell.

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: Fluff, comfort, they're just soft babies, I am sick while writing these, Javier being a soft jerk - he means well, Din doing his best, Frankie just being a soft bf, Joel is nothing but caring, sick!reader

Characters: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Javier Peña

Joel Miller

Joel: How’s my baby girl doing? You: Honestly Joel, I have a killer headache and just want to go home. 

Joel frowns at the small screen in his hand before he looks down at the shirt he is ironing. He had planned on surprising you and taking you out to dinner tonight since Sarah was at a friend's house for the night but he quickly scraps that idea.

Joel: Come over after work  You: I just said I wasn’t feeling well… Joel: No funny business. Promise 

Joel spends the afternoon bringing every pillow and blanket he owns into the living room. He drags chairs from the dining room and drapes blankets over them, making a nice dark blanket fort in his living room. He digs around in the Christmas storage boxes in the garage until he finds battery operated warm fairy lights that Sarah begged him for one year. With a few grunts and mumbled swears, he manages to hang them on the chairs within the blanket fort, hoping you liked it and it wasn’t too bright. 

He checks his watch that Sarah fixed for his birthday last year and swears when he notices the time. 4:24pm, you’d be over any minute now. He scrambles around the living room making the last final touches. He rushes up to Sarah’s room and looks through her cupboard for her small candle collection. As he goes to grab a vanilla scented candle, he freezes as he remembers you mentioning that the heavy scents make your headaches worse. 

Okay – so no candles then. 

He’s taking the stairs two at a time when he hears your knock on his door, still not wanting to let yourself in even though he’s told you on multiple occasions that you’re more than welcome in his house. 

Joel opens the door after turning the last light off by the front door and his smile drops as he sees the pain behind your eyes. He takes hold of your hand and you sigh as you enter the dark house. 

He gently guides you into the living room and watches you as you take in the space he made for you, a small smile falling to his lips at your soft expression. Your arms are around him in an instant as his hand wraps around your shoulders, his other hand softly rubbing your head, hoping to ease a little of your pain. 

He lifts your head to look up at him when he feels the subtle shake in your chest as he hears you try to muffle a cry. “What’s wrong?” He quietly asks. 

“Nothing, my head just hurts and this is beautiful.” You reply as you turn your head to look over at the pillow fort, the soft warm glow illuminating the room from inside the blankets. 

“Come.” Joel offers as he detaches your hands from his waist and continues to guide you into the living room. He lifts a corner of a blanket and ushers you inside. He crouches at the entrance as you crawl in, taking in the small bowls of snacks and fruit carefully placed on the edge of the blankets and pillows. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go get you some pain killers, and fresh popcorn, yeah?” He asks and you eagerly nod in agreement. 

On his return, he shoves the bowl inside before crawling in, thankful for the softness of the blankets on his old knees. You take an overly big handful of popcorn and shove it to your mouth, small crumbs falling into your lap. He hands you a bottle of water and the pills and you struggle to swallow the popcorn before you take the pain killers. 

“How’s your head?” Joel asks as he pushes your hair behind your ear. 

“Think it might end up being a migraine.” You sigh as you pull a blanket over your lap, the crumbs falling into the pillow beneath you. The father in him dusts it to the side without thought, years of cleaning up after Sarah subconsciously implanted into his brain. “Might take tomorrow off work.” You mumble as you lay down, nestling into the pillows. 

Joel huffs as he picks up the popcorn bowl and your hand shoots out from the blanket, tugging it back beside you. “Darlin, if it’s that bad, then let's forget about the popcorn, the snacks and the blanket fort and get you to bed.” 

You frown as you pull the blanket up to your chin and hum in protest. “No. This is nice, I don’t want to move.” You grumble. 

“You sure? I know it's comfortable but if it’s turning into a migraine, you should go lay down.” Joel offers as he leans on his elbow, his other hand slowly tracing your body over the blanket. 

You sigh at the touch and close your eyes, smiling. “Really, it’s nice and dark in here. You did a good job, it’s sweet. I just want to stay here with you.” You open your eyes and look up at him and his heart clenches in his chest.  “But I'll let you take me to bed if it gets worse, deal?” 

Joel’s fingers grip onto the blanket before he soothes the blanket on you. “Yeah, okay. But if I even see the slightest hint of it getting worse, I'm taking you straight to bed, no arguments.” He says in a false firm declaration. Knowing full well that you won't do anything you don't want to.

“Deal.” You say on an exhale as you hug the pillow under your head. 

Joel leans over and kisses your temple, soothing a hand over your hair and you sigh at the touch. 

Din Djarin

Din knows something is wrong when the cockpit is silent for more than a few hours. You had muttered that you were going to go lay down a mere six hours ago, and he didn’t think anything of it, thinking you just needed rest. 

When it hits hour eight, he descends the ladder in search of you. He finds you curled in on yourself in his bed. His bed. He stands there blinking at you for a moment before looking around in search of anything that could explain what was going on. Nothing.  

He says your name but you don't move an inch. He sighs before he wraps a gloved hand around your ankle, instantly making you recoil from his touch as your leg curls into your chest. 

Okay, so not asleep then. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Din asks as kindly as he can but he knows it came off harsh, he normally does. 

“Nothing. Leave me alone.” Your voice is distant and weak and he’s taken back by how you sound, not used to anything but your overly positive attitude. 

Din might get frustrated at how lively and energetic you are, but he definitely wouldn't trade it for anything. Your personality is what makes you who you are and he loves – no, tolerates it no matter how hard it is to keep up at times

Your sniffle brings him back to the moment and he tilts his head at the sound. He would have blamed it on his imagination but he hears it again. “You’re crying?” He asks.

“Din, I said leave me alone.” You snap and he raises his eyebrows under his helmet. 

He turns to leave, listening to your demand but he hears you sniffle again and he stops as he sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He turns the lights off, sending the room into darkness. He takes armour off piece by piece, carefully placing them on the floor before he walks back to you in his flight suit. He takes a strip of cloth and leans over you, pressing the fabric in your hand. “Put this on.” He orders. 

It’s now you finally look over your shoulder and frown at his lack of usual Beskar. “Wha-” 

“I said put it on, cover your eyes.” He points at the cloth and you slowly nod. He watches as you tie it around your head and waits until you lay back down until he takes his helmet off. 

He crawls into the bunk behind you and tugs your back to his chest, a startled gasp coming from your mouth as he moves you. 

“What are-” 

“Have I done something to upset you?” He asks, worry laced in his unmodulated voice. His bare hand holds onto your stomach as he holds you close to him, your own hand covering his. 

You shake your head as you sniffle again. 

“Then why are you crying cyar'ika?” He pushes as his thumb lazily draws circles on your clothed stomach. 

You shrug in his arms and he slowly nods, his lips landing small kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t like it when you push me away.” He sighs into your neck. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He turns his hand from your stomach and holds your hand, squeezing it. “Talk to me cyar'ika. Please.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know why I feel this way.” You almost choke on your words as you sniffle again and he squeezes your hand again. 

“That’s okay. We can lay here for as long as you need mesh’la.”   

And you do just that, until you turn in his arms and wrap your arms around him. Your head resting on his chest and you sigh contently.

“Feeling better?” He asks as he kisses the top of your head. 

“Sort of.” 

“Anything I can do to fix that?”

“Just hold me.” 

Frankie Morales

To say that he’s in a good mood would be an understatement. Why is Frankie in a good mood? Well, that’s easy, he knows you’re at home waiting for him when he gets home from work. As much as he hated that you were gone before he woke in the mornings, coming home to you made your difference in working hours that much better. 

You’ve been living together for an easy month now and that blissful honeymoon stage never seems to end, and frankly, he doesn’t think it will. 

His mood does however falter when he opens the front door and he doesn’t hear you. Normally there would be the smell of dinner or the sound of music but there’s nothing. Which he thinks is completely fine, just out of the ordinary. He calls your name, thinking maybe you’re in the backyard by the pool but he hears your grumble from the living room.

Okay… 

He cautiously enters the living room, his head peeking around the corner before the rest of his body. 

His happy mood completely vanishes at the sight of you gripping your stomach and taking deep breaths as you lay on the lounge. He rushes to the couch and kneels in front of you. He places his hand on your stomach as his other hand wipes the hair fallen on your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks, a frown settling on his face. 

“‘M fine.” you grumble and he shakes his head. He’s about to protest but you continue, “Just a bad period, ‘m fine.” You say before your breath falters, your hand gripping onto your own shirt. 

He sighs in relief, his forehead resting on yours as he begins to rub your lower stomach. He pushes himself from you and sits on his heels as he looks down at you. “Why didn’t you text me? I could have brought some stuff home?” He asks as he moves his hand to hold yours. 

“It’s okay.” You sigh as you sit up and his hands rests on your thighs as he looks up at you, his hands slowly running up and down your thighs. 

“Do you have everything you need? I can go to the supermarket, it’s no problem baby.”

You nod as you reach out and run a hand through his hair and he closes his eyes and sighs at the touch before snapping his eyes open and swatting your hand away with a playful frown. “Stop it – it’s supposed to be me looking after you.” He laughs as you roll your eyes. 

“Frankie–”

“Nope, you sit right there, Doctor Frankie will look after you.” He grins as he leans in to kiss your forehead before standing from the couch. 

“Babe–” 

“You’re stuck with me now, your fault for moving in.” He teases as he reaches to take your hands in his. “We can order in if you like? Chinese?” He offers and you nod with a smile. “Perfect! I’ll go get you a heat pack and some chocolate from my stash.”

Your head snaps to him as he moves to go into the kitchen. “You have a hidden chocolate stash?” Your words rushed and your jaw hangs open in shock. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snickers as he enters the kitchen. He reaches for the back of the cupboard and takes out a box of cereal you hate and empty the chocolate onto the kitchen counter. 

“IS THERE CHOCOLATE IN THIS HOUSE YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME ABOUT?” you yell from the living room and it takes everything he has not to burst out laughing at your reaction. The exact reason he began hiding the chocolate when you moved in. 

He walks back in with the warm heat pack and block of chocolate and you snatch the bar from his hand. “I will tear this house apart Frankie.” You mutter as you open it and shove a whole row into your mouth. 

He falls into the couch beside you and smiles down at you as you moan at the taste, your eyes closing in bliss. He reaches around your shoulder and tugs you into his side and you willingly snuggle into him. He rests the heat pack on your stomach and you sigh at the feeling.

He finds it oddly amusing that your entire mood changes at the consumption of chocolate, that all the pain you were feeling vanishes. He knows that’s impossible, but it’s cute. He does however rub your stomach at every strained breath, trying to take your focus away from the cramps you felt. 

“Thank you.” You smile as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Anything for you baby.”

“Will you tell me where you hide the chocolate?”

“Oh, not a chance.”   

Javier Peña

Javier lifts his hand to knock on your apartment door for the fifth time. His foot taps on the carpet below him and he sighs in frustration as he hears no sign of movement inside. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he digs in his pocket for the space key you gave him; for emergencies only. He really didn’t want to walk into your apartment uninvited but he considers this an emergency.  

It’s been just shy of a week since you last showed up at work, just shy of a week since he last ran into you in the hallways of the apartment complex you shared.

He slowly pushes open the door, half expecting you to start yelling at him – but you don’t. 

He spots the pile of dirty dishes in the sink first and he instantly knows something is wrong since you’re always nagging him for leaving his empty coffee mugs on your desk at work, hating the mess he made just to annoy you. 

He spots the couch next, blankets and pillows left unattended with used tissues covering the floor. Gross. 

He moves to your bedroom door, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed as he looks at you in your bed. Your eyes are closed and your chest struggles on each inhale, the sound of your blocked nose filling the room. He almost laughs at that, hearing you snore – but then remembers that you’re actually sick. Great. 

Not wanting to disturb your sleep, he moves to leave. 

“Please tell me you’re here to put me out of my misery.” You groan as you sit up, wiping the snot dripping down from your nose. 

He scrunches his nose at the sight, ignoring the way he wants to rush to get you a tissue. 

“Your place is a mess.” He says instead as he looks down at the sea of tissues both in your bed and the floor and instantly feels guilty as you start coughing, your hand clutching at your chest. 

He frowns then, wanting to rush to your aid but he doesn’t. His feet feel as if they’re concreted to the ground, not allowing him to set foot in your bedroom. 

“You’re welcome to clean up if it bothers you, because I ain't doing it.” You mutter as you collapse back into your pillows. “While you’re at it, can you get me a heat pack?” 

Yeah, he can do that. It’s the least he can do, right? 

He pushes off from your doorframe and walks the short distance to your med cabinet above your stove. He takes the purple sack from the cabinet and tosses it into the microwave as he leans against the counter. He taps his foot as he looks down at the countless plates and half empty take away containers. 

He takes the pack when the microwave beeps and strides back to your room, freezing in the doorway before sighing and walking over to your side. He outstretches his hand and offers you the pack. He pulls it back however as he sees sweat trickle down your forehead as you shiver. He places the back of his hand to your forehead and swears. 

“You’re burning up.” He frowns as you grab for the heat pack. “This is the last thing you need.” 

“But I’m cold Javi,” You whine and he shakes his head. 

“When was the last time you took any Tylenol? Or had a damn shower?” He asks and you shrug. 

He sighs again and walks back into the kitchen, tossing the useless heat pack on the counter along with all your other mess and opens the cabinet again, taking out the container you use to store all your medications. He digs through it and takes out the Tylenol packet and groans when it’s empty. He looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes. 

Of course it’s empty, why wouldn't it be?

It’s then and there he decides he’s dragging you out of this apartment and into his own. Because there’s no way in hell he’s leaving you here when you’re doing what seems to be a very poor job at looking after yourself. 

He walks back into your room without hesitation this time and grabs onto your hands. You groan as he lifts you to sit up. “What are you doing?” You ask with a frown as he continues to lift you from the bed. 

“Comin’ ‘cross the hall with me.”

“What?”

“You’re going to take a shower, take the Tylenol that I actually have and sleep in a bed that’s not full of snotty tissues.” He softly orders as he drags you across your bedroom. He stops in the middle of your room as he looks down at your snot covered pyjamas. He moves over to your dresser and takes out the first set he sees and continues to march you back to his place. 

You sigh in defeat and follow him, because let’s be honest – you’re in no shape to argue with him right now. 

He hands you the set of clean pyjamas and pushes you into his bathroom. He waits until he hears the shower start before he moves into his bedroom, quickly cleaning up the dirty clothes from his floor and shoving them into the hamper he bought, telling himself that he would actually use it. He hasn’t.  

He pours a cold glass of water and sets two pills on the counter. He stares at the counter and scratches the back of his head, maybe some tea?  

He opens his pantry and kneels as he searches for the box of tea he knows you left here months ago when he had nothing you wanted to drink that last time you were there. He pushes cans around until he finds the box tucked away. 

By the time you exit his bathroom, you look like a different person. Not quite healthy, but no longer looking like you’re on your deathbed. He ushers you into his bedroom and you protest when he motions for you to get into the bed. 

“Get your fuckin’ ass into this bed.” He orders without a hint of anger and you roll your eyes as you do what he says. 

He comes back in with the water, pills and tea. He places the hot tea on his bedside table and hands you the pills and water. You smile as you thank him and he looks around his room, not knowing how to take your thanks. 

“Yeah, well can’t really have you dying across the hall. They’d think it was me.” He jokes instead and you laugh before it sets off another cough and he swears at himself for making you cough.

“Right – well, get some sleep.” He mutters to the floor before he leaves, leaving the door open a crack in case you need something. 

He waits until he hears you snore before he walks over to your apartment and begins cleaning. 

Notes

I am so sick pls tag me in sick!reader fics

My desk is covered in tissues. My bed is covered in tissues. The tissues that make it to my bin, my puppy tips over and starts eating.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

watch

summary: after showing frankie what he was missing, something seems to have been awoken in you all. with joel away on a contract and santi called out of town, you're left in frankie's care. except one rule still stands - you can't touch.

read part 1, listen, here BONUS: al's handy guide to reading watch

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. alright, buckle in. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, lil bit of softdom!reader and bratty!reader as well hehe. drinking, pet names (inc. little/baby girl, baby boy). rules get broken (surprise!), praise kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public fingering, blowjobs (m receiving and giving), rimming, mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of toys (f&m), consensual somnophilia, cumplay, edging, facesitting, anal fingering (m), mfm, anal sex (m receiving), tiny bit of breath play (not reader), light bondage, brief gagging, very high sex drives but who can blame them, once again so many orgasms i lost count, and in the immortal words of @thatredheadwriter, 'so much fluid exchange I think a hasmat team should probably go in to clean it up' reader wears dresses and has hair, but has no other descriptions. no use of y/n.

wc: 25k (i know, i'm so sorry)

an: many many many thanks to the peeps who waited an age for this. you've all been so patient and kind and i hope you enjoy! for @schnarfer, @swiftispunk, @5oh5 and @janaispunk who, without their constant encouragement and recommendation, this may not have happened at all <3 dividers as always from the wonderful @saradika-graphics

In the weeks that follow, you wait for the ball to drop. 

You wait to feel weird about what the four of you did, for the kick of it, for Joel to reveal that he actually wasn’t that sold on it. You wait for a text or call from Frankie or Santi to say it was nice knowing you, but it was a little much, a little weird to see you around now. 

It doesn’t happen. 

You stay slotted into Joel’s life like you were always meant to be there. You stay over at his, he stays over at yours. You spend lazy Sunday mornings making waffles or pancakes and getting fucked dumb. He brings you flowers when work is hard, you rub his shoulders when he’s had a rough day on site. Your body is marked beneath your clothes with his bruises, the shape of his teeth, and his is marked by yours, the scratch of your nails traced delicately down his back. 

You spend your time orbiting around each other, close and safe in the bubble you’ve built, warm and soft in the afternoon sunlight that streams through the curtains on your days off, eating in and eating out. He becomes more familiar than anyone else has ever been with the inner workings of your mind, the inner workings of your body. He introduces you to his brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. He talks about you to Sarah, and she says she’d love to meet you next time she’s home from college. He makes space for your books on his shelves, and your clothes find a way into his wardrobe; his squeeze into your drawers, a spare toothbrush for him in your bathroom. He kisses you, hot and open mouthed when he drops you off at work, does the same when you find his truck waiting outside for you when you’re done. He asks how the boys are when you come home from drinks with them, listens with sparkling eyes when you tell him Benny’s latest hookup is from the bar you used to work at, the place where they first met you. He chuckles and tells you he's glad Santi introduced the two of you when he did, before any of the others swooped in and took you for themselves. 

Sometimes, you think he forgets about the night that Frankie asked you out, the conversations that followed. How close it could have been. 

But that's naive of you. Naive of you to think that he doesn’t see, doesn’t seek out the claim that Frankie and Santi have also made on you. Because he knows. In some infuriating, impossible way, he always knows. 

He shows you he knows one morning, when you have already been awake for what feels like hours, watching his broad chest rise and fall with deep, sleeping breaths.

You trace the curve of his nose with your eyes, the scruff of his beard, the way his curls have grown out. Luscious and thick, spattered with grey, curling down into the nape of his neck. His lips look so warm, so soft, that you’ve been challenging yourself, seeing how long you can go without kissing him awake. Seeing how long you can go with just remembering how they felt between your legs last night, wet with spit and your release as he soothed you through orgasm after orgasm, kissing your thighs, sucking marks into your soft flesh as he held you down with one thick palm braced against your belly, the other with its fingers gently pumping in and out of you. The deep timbre of his voice when you made yourself look at him, his praise, good girl, there she is, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl through your tears, as you begged him, begged him for something else, something more. More, daddy, you’d pleaded. You'd needed something thicker, something deeper. You always do.

You squirm beneath the sheets, pressing your thighs together. Try to think of anything else. The green of his bedroom walls, the boots you know will be at the end of the bed. His trinkets on the dresser - the watch Sarah bought (and fixed, many times) for him, the picture of him and his family at Tommy and Maria’s wedding, your clothes scattered about the floor, the chair in the corner of the room, the chair where he sat that night, as he watched, as he watched you -

You roll over onto your side to look away from it, squeezing your eyes shut, barely able to control your whimper. You’re slick between your thighs, too warm as your wetness mixes with the cum still drooling out of your cunt. You try and count his freckles instead, starting from his forehead to his cheekbones, down to his neck - his neck - his shoulder, the bite mark you left there as he spilled himself into you, the hand resting on his chest, his thick fingers, his fingers -

It’s no good. It’s no fucking good. He needs to rest, so you take a deep breath and steel yourself. Coffee. You’ll head downstairs, you’ll make coffee, and when he’s slept enough you’ll talk him through everything you’ve been thinking about, and he’ll make it better. Starting with his tongue.

You press your hands to the mattress as you start to raise your torso from the bed, and almost immediately at the shifting of your weight, Joel’s hand shoots out to grab you.

‘Where you goin’, pretty girl?’

You smile, smug. So he's awake. And you know, with his grip like this, you’ll get anything you want from him.

‘Coffee,’ you say, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his soft lips. He returns it, eyes still shut, hand shifting from your forearm to your bicep, to your shoulder, to the back of your neck. He holds you there as he draws his tongue across the seam of your lips, and with a groan you let him in. The bristle of his moustache tickles as he licks into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as his free hand skates between the sheets to skim over your bare thigh. You shift against him, bringing your calf over both of his legs. The movement brings his hand forwards, dipping between your legs to trace two fingers up through your drenched cunt. You moan loudly against him, and Joel chuckles.

‘Last night not enough for you, little girl?’

You hum against him, shaking your head. He retracts his fingers.

‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you.

‘No, da-’ you start, but as soon as your lips part he has his fingers on your tongue. On instinct, your eyes flutter shut and you suck them, swirling your tongue over the thick digits, savouring the taste of you both.

‘Rude to talk with your mouthful, sweet pea,’ he murmurs, ‘Somebody oughta fuck some manners into ya.’

With his fingers still in your mouth, Joel turns you onto your back, bracing himself away from you to watch you continue to suckle on his fingers. He pushes them further back, further, further, only to watch you begin to gag around him.

‘Good girl,’ he says, withdrawing them, spit-slick, before bringing them back to your pussy. He watches your face as he pushes them easily inside, the crease between your brows, the way your jaw slackens, the way your eyes widen as he curls them into your sweet spot. He nods, pleased. ‘Think you’re wet enough to take me already, baby,’ he says, swiping them over your clit. You jolt, moaning again at the feeling. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah, daddy,’ you sigh, ‘Ready for you.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Always so ready f'me, isn’t she, princess?’ He says, lining himself up at your entrance, gripping your jaw to keep your eyes on him. He doesn’t expect an answer this time. ‘Yeah, always dripping for me, aren’t you? Poor baby girl. Poor baby girl and her messy little pussy.’ 

He feeds his cock to you slowly, so slowly. You whine and arch against him as he does, brain trickling away from you, already so given in to the sensation; mind deliciously blank, nails scratching at his forearms as he cages you in, thrusting deep, bottoming out. When he sees your eyes roll back, he picks up his pace smoothly, thrusting faster and harder, deeper. You moan out a long daddy, and he huffs in amusement.

‘Does daddy feel good, sweet girl?’

You gasp out a yes, fuck, daddy, and he hums in response.

'There she is,’ he says, ‘Didn’t need coffee, did ya, baby? Just wanted daddy. Just needed your daddy, hm?’ You nod furiously, tongue loosened by the heavy weight of him inside you, babbling away about how good he feels, how deep, how big he is. You lock your ankles around the bottom of his spine to pull him closer, and he groans, head dipping to yours. ‘Yeah,’ he breathes, ‘You take what you need, baby. Just wanna get fucked, huh? Woke up dreamin’ a me? Dreamin’ a me fuckin’ you full of my cum again, babygirl?’

You moan again, neck pulling taught as you arch further, pull him in deeper. The coil deep in your belly tightens, jaw clenching as you scratch at him, as you tug the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘Poor baby, can’t even get her words out,’ he coos, and like he wants to prove his point, he pushes even deeper, tip kissing your cervix, the bruising feeling making you gasp, making you plead, making you beg as you try and move your hips away from him. He brings his hand away from your face to your waist, keeping you in place.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he smiles, rocking in and out of you again, ‘I know you can take it, just relax f'me. That’s a good girl. I know it’s big but you can take it.’ 

You clench around him, painfully, try to mumble out how close you are, but you can’t even summon the words. In this room, he is all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel. The slickness of it, the heat, the burning pleasure rising inside you as you writhe beneath him.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, ‘You’re close already, huh?’ You hum, body tight, so close, so close, head so empty. ‘Yeah, you are. Fuck, love when you get all stupid on me like this. You like getting fucked dumb on daddy’s cock, baby? Can you feel me all the way in here, sweetheart?’ he asks, moving the hand on your waist to press against your lower stomach. You clench harder as he presses down, the coil tightening, spiralling, and you’re right there - ‘Wish you could fuckin’ see yourself right now, baby. Wish you could see how pretty ya look getting fucked. You like being watched, don’t ya, darlin’? Yeah. Want Santi and Francisco to watch again, baby?’ You gasp at his words, surprised, vision blurring, hurtling towards your climax, the build up scorching, impossibly long. ‘Sure you do. Or d'you want Santi to fuck you again, make you scream his name while he’s inside you, huh?’

Fuck, okay. Okay -

‘Yes, daddy -’ you breathe, pussy fluttering around him, the beginnings of your orgasm.

‘Santi? Or is it Frankie, baby? You want his mouth on you, want to feel him stretch you open? He’s big, isn’t he? Wanna see how he feels, if he fits like me?’

He is, you remember, he is, and you could try. If you can take Joel, you can take Frankie, and oh, what a thought -

Your body pulls tighter, aching, painful, and you cry out.

‘Shit -’ you moan, ‘Shit, Joel, I’m -’ 

‘Come, babygirl,’ he tells you. ‘Come all over my cock, princess. Get it nice and wet, just how daddy likes it.’

You burst aflame beneath him with a shout, body jerking as you hiss and gasp, gripping him to you as he fucks you through it. You whimper with every thrust as he keeps talking through gritted teeth, thrusting harder.

‘Yeah, that’s it. So sweet, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You want them again, darlin’? Want to play with 'em? Want to watch 'em play with your daddy?’

A needy whine slips past your lips as you picture it; Frankie on his knees, Santi on all fours, and you grow even wetter at the thought, the slick of your orgasm and Joel’s words making the prettiest noises.

‘She likes that,’ Joel says, almost to himself, ‘Yeah, she likes that. Dirty girl. Dirty girl, wanting all three of us, wanting to watch, hm? Wanna touch, baby? Wanna see how it feels?’ He looks so fucked out on top of you that even you’re not sure if he knows what he’s saying, what he’s asking you. But you gasp out a yes anyway, something warm and quick trickling up your spine, tightening your cunt again.

‘Another one,’ he grunts, ‘Another one, darlin’, and I’ll give you what you want.’ 

You don’t need to be told twice. Your second orgasm rips through you lightning fast and white-hot, so good that you hear ringing in your ears, so tight that Joel stutters inside of you, groaning, breathing your name as he pumps and spills and twitches. You’re both breathing so heavily that it’s all you can do to lie there, licking your lips as Joel pulls out with a moan and flops beside you. A breathless little giggle escapes your parted lips.

Joel reaches across your body and tugs you by the arm until you’re nestled into his side. Too hot, too breathless, but you breathe him in all the same, tracing patterns on his chest.

The room is quiet as you both come down from your highs, your eyes falling closed as Joel presses a kiss to your hairline. Your brain tries its best not to think, not to read into it, but even through the exhaustion, his words come back to you.

Watch, touch. 

You have to know. You have to ask, now, want to know, want it, want it, want it -

‘Do you - do you want to do it again?’ You stutter.

Joel puffs out a laugh to the ceiling.

‘You’re gonna have to give me at least ten minutes, baby.’

You laugh and nudge his side with your fist.

‘No,’ you smile, ‘No. The - the thing you said, about that night -’

He raises an eyebrow, and you bare your teeth awkwardly. 

'You know - that night.'

‘Mm?’ Tease.

You lean further onto his chest and take his skin gently between your teeth. You nip, and he relents. You lean back slightly to look at him.

Joel smiles at you, crooks his head so he can nibble at your ear lobe.

‘Baby, I’d love to.’

The sound that leaves your lips is obscene, and you don’t care. Fuck, the thought of it. The three of them together, the four of you together.

‘All we gotta do is send the text,’ he says, ‘Could send it now and they’d be here in the hour.’ He chuckles. One of his hands moves down to your thigh, hooking it over his hip before moving to your ass to rock you against him. You groan into his shoulder. Your next question leaves your lips before you can even stop it.

‘Did you - did you mean what you said, about you and Santi and Frankie?’ You ask. It sounds clumsy, almost like you shouldn’t be asking. Fuck, maybe you should have waited for him to bring it up. You tense, waiting for his reaction.

Joel opens his eyes again with a small smirk, peeking down at you down his aquiline nose. His movements still.

‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.’

You draw a quick breath and hold him closer. You won’t ask anymore questions. Try to push away thoughts of what Joel could do with his hands, his mouth, his cock, of what the two other men could do with theirs, what it would be like to watch, what it would be like to feel -

‘I’ve never… I’ve never done it before.’ Joel says, quietly. 

You pull back from his chest and watch him watch you. His dark eyes are honest, wary, and a question forms on your lips. He said he had been with multiple people in the past, it was something he’d done, something he was clear he had enjoyed -

‘With a man. I’ve never… done anything with a guy.’

Your stomach swoops at his nervousness. You feel your brow crease, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

‘That’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘That’s… I didn’t realise, that’s all. ‘M sorry if I pushed you.’

Joel shakes his head. He hums beneath you, a deep rumble in his chest. 

‘Y’didn’t. You ain’t.’ 

You stroke your thumb along the patches of his beard.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’

Joel closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath. 

‘I’ve thought about it. For a while. Watching people, watching you. I’m… curious.’

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

‘That’s normal, baby,’ you whisper, ‘So normal.’

Your mind flashes back, back to how tender he was with you, with Frankie. His warmth towards Pope as the four of you cleaned up afterwards, as you dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find. The way his eyes lingered on your body, Santi’s body, Frankie’s, the curiosity you glimpsed as you snacked and rehydrated, the goodbyes as they slipped out the door.

It makes sense.

And it’s even better to know that all this time you’ve been imagining it, he has, too.

‘I’d like to try it,’ he says, blinking at you. ‘With them. With you. If that’s okay?’

You clutch his face tighter, tender, warmth blooming in your chest at his trust. You smile wide at him, and he visibly relaxes. Tears threaten in your eyes.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘Yes. Of course it is. I… it’d be more than okay.’

He swallows.

‘You sure?’

You untangle yourself from him as much as possible, but he keeps an iron grip on your waist. You settle on your elbow.

‘Of course I’m sure, baby,’ you soothe, ‘Of course I am. I’m glad you told me. It’d be - it’d be an honour - it’s very brave of you to -’

Joel cuts you off with a snort, pulling you roughly back against him. He holds you tight within his grasp.

‘Very brave -’ he chuckles.

‘It is,’ you insist, muffled against his chest, ‘It is, and if there’s anything you want to try -’

He pulls you up so your face is level with his, and shuts you up with a firm kiss. And when you lick him a little while later, tongue pressed up, pressing in to his tight ring of muscle, you find that there is plenty he wants to try.

And plenty you want to help him with.

———

Will greets you first at the bar that evening, and you quickly lose yourself to the rhythm of the night.

The five of you are tucked back into your usual booth, bottles and glasses crowding the table, the noise of other patrons bringing you closer together, knees knocking, hands over forearms to claw yourself further into the conversation. You talk for hours, work tales being swapped, gossip about old friends, former lovers. Will and Benny seem particularly interested in your romance with Joel, and you happily fill them in, telling them about the barbeque you had round Tommy and Maria’s, how you’re meeting Sarah next time she’s home from college, and how Joel will be away on a contract next week. Frankie and Santi listen in with gleaming eyes, half-smiles of their own, sharing secrets across the table that only you are privy to. It makes your stomach tighten, your panties damp.

And the way Frankie watches you, it’s like he knows.

Seats are switched throughout the night after bathroom breaks and drinks collections, but Pope always finds a way to be close to you - a hand on your thigh, a squeeze of your palm, the press of his shoulder against yours. He stacks a small pile of peanuts on the table between the two of you, hidden behind a glass, and at any opportune moment you can, you take turns flicking them at Will or Benny. With every small, yellow projectile that smacks against their chests, arms, sometimes even faces, Frankie racks up a tally on a napkin. The game is all but lost when Benny looks at up the ceiling and asks in disbelief whether it’s raining fucking peanuts, and you and Santi collapse into fits of giggles. Benny stares at you in blank confusion, furthered by Will’s growing rumble of laughter - until he finally fixes stoic Frankie with a betrayed look, noticing the tally half-hidden by his palm, and cries out an accusatory -

‘Is that you?’ Which sends Frankie over the edge, too. 

When places switch again, Will makes sure to gather you in a headlock in his strong arms and grind his knuckles roughly into your scalp. You yelp with laughter, giggling against each other, sinking into the dirty leather as Will muses on how much of a bastard you are, wondering out loud how your skills as a former bartender allowed you to outsmart ex-Delta Force operators.

Frankie watches with his usual boyish charm, his eyes crinkling at the edges, warm and molten and wanting when they meet yours. Your tongue burns with the things you want to tell him, with what you and Joel had discussed, eventually in great detail, in bed at home. But you bite the words back, knowing what is and what isn't yours to share. Instead, you lean into Santi’s touch, scraping your nails along his jeans until he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip in a wicked grin. He excuses himself soon after, and with his departure, Benny calls for a round of pool.

He’s already slipping out of the booth before you can protest, Will following closely behind. Frankie steps out, too, rounding your side and holding out a hand for you. You accept it, stepping out in front of him so you’re pressed chest to chest. He lifts his palm to your cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. You press his bicep in thanks before turning back to the table, hinging at your hips to grab both his drink and yours, taking extra care to subtly grind your ass into his crotch. His palm comes to rest at the top of your thigh, holding you there for just a moment, before moving to your waist. You turn back to him.  He leans in close.

‘I don’t know what you’re trying to do to us tonight, hermosa,’ he breathes into the conch of your ear, ‘But it’s working.’

You grin at him as he moves his hand from your waist to the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing gently before letting go. You take a sip from your beer, reaching up to take the cap from his curls and nestling it backwards on your own head. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

His answering smile is dirty, thrilling, and he follows you as if on a leash to the pool table the brothers have secured.

Santi joins you soon afterwards, his cheeks a little flushed, a fresh drink in his hand. You’re split off into the most unfair teams possible; Will, Benny, and Frankie taking one cue, and you and Pope with the other. Frankie racks up the balls with swift, deft movements, taking the cue easily in his massive hands, the wood resting between his thick fingers. You feel your body warm as you watch him, still wearing his cap, trying to squeeze your thighs together inconspicuously. You bring your cool bottle to your neck as Pope winds an arm around you, letting his hand settle at your hip, stroking and pinching the flesh there. You don’t look at him, but you sigh deeply, and he lets his head knock against yours, pleased. With Frankie shooting first, there’s no great rush to grab your cue and be prepared. 

You watch as he pots ball after ball, mouth curving in a playful scowl as he shoots you a grin after each one, moving around the table with so much grace and ease that it starts to make you a little dizzy. Benny and Will cheer him on with loud hoots and shouts, and Pope makes sure the two of you boo him like a pantomime villain with every flick of his wrist. When he finally fails to sink a shot, Pope passes you the cue, and you take your time lowering yourself to press your chest to the green felt, inhaling deeply. You’re warm, relaxed, a little buzzed, more than a little horny. You wiggle your ass a little, and Will laughs, shouting something about how your distraction technique won’t work, and he’s right. It quickly backfires when Frankie sweeps around the table, pressing one half of his body over yours as he directs you on how to hold the cue, how to position it, how to cradle it in your fingers like he does. When he’s sure you’ve got it, he breathes into your ear for you to pull your elbow back with just the right amount of leverage, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that break out along your neck and shoulder.

‘You’re ready,’ he whispers, and just as you begin to snap your wrist forwards, he presses his firm cock into your thigh.

Your quick inhale stutters your movement, and you watch as the tip of the cue just catches the edge of the ball, sending it spinning off into a barren corner of the table. You stand and spin to Frankie.

‘You asshole!’ you cry, indignant and hot, pointing a finger at him as he snatches his cap back from your head and retreats. ‘You - jogged me!’ Frankie spreads his hands in front of him, pouting, his bulge only just covered by the front of his button up.

‘I tried my best.’ He grins.

‘Don’t worry about it, kid,’ Will calls from the other side of the table, ‘Fish is known for being good with his hands. Even when he uses them for evil.’ 

The men laugh as Frankie flushes, knocking his fist into Will’s belly. Despite yourself, you laugh with them, enjoying watching him flustered as Will gasps out his laughter. Pope leans in close to whisper in your ear.

‘Good with his mouth, too.’ And all the air is sucked from your lungs as you feel your own face heat. Santi laughs louder next to you, taking the cue from your hands so you can grasp your bottle instead. You watch as Benny misfires, then Pope, still giggling at his own joke, before Frankie takes over again, sinking each one until only the white remains. Not that you notice, finding yourself now caught up in the way he bites and wets his lips, how plush they look, how they’d feel pressed to your thighs, your tits, your clit -

Benny snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, waving you back to reality.

‘Ground control to Major Loser,’ he grins, ‘Frankie whooped your ass, in case you weren't paying attention. It’s your round.’ 

You scoff playfully at him, whirling on your heel back towards the bar, but not before catching Pope’s eye again as he smirks at you, leaning against the table next to Frankie.

You flip them off as you work your way through the crowd.

When Frankie parks his truck outside Joel’s, all the lights in the house are off. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, and Frankie eyes the front door a little warily, eyes narrowing at the distance between. You giggle at him.

‘Frankie, baby, the boogeyman is not going to get me in the space between your truck and the door.’

He frowns at you all the same before unbuckling his own seatbelt and jumping out the driver’s side. You roll your eyes at him as he bounds round the front of the truck, swinging your door open and helping you out. He grins at you.

‘I know,’ he says, ‘I know, just - let me do it. Humour me.’

He swings your hands between you as you walk up the front yard, and you try to stifle your giggles as you slot the spare key into the lock. It’s unlike Joel to not wait up for you, but you’d made sure to tucker him out before you’d left. You’re glad he’s finally getting the rest he needed. 

The door swings open in front of you into yawning darkness, and Frankie gives your hip a squeeze. 

‘You’re sure Joel’s home?’ he asks. 

‘Yeah,’ you nod, flicking the hallway light on. ‘He’s probably just asleep. It’s late, and -’

‘You probably spent the first half of the day making him see God, I suppose.’ He finishes for you. You smack his chest when you see his shit-eating grin, but aren’t able to wipe your own from your lips. 

‘Obviously.’ You smirk.

Frankie laughs quietly as you shut the front door behind him, letting his hands wander from your hip to your waist, up and down the span of your back, pulling you towards him. You can still feel him, warm and half hard against you, and a soft moan slips from your mouth in response to his small grind. He smiles again, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull to his chest as he rocks you back and forth, letting you feel everything while having nothing. Your own hands clutch at his shirt, shifting it higher so you can splay your palms over his bare abdomen. He looks down at you with soft, lazy eyes, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to kiss him. And when he leans in to whisper in your ear, you’re sure you’re going to wake Joel up and beg for him to take the two of you now. But instead, Frankie asks in a whisper -

‘Do you think Joel’d mind if I used his bathroom?’

You snort a laugh, pushing yourself away from him, and he giggles back at you.

‘Of course not,’ you say, pointing off down the hallway. ‘Just up there. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’

He salutes as he backs away, almost knocking into the bannister of the stairs, and you have to clap your hands over your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. You step quietly into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water, but only get as far as reaching up into the cupboard when there are soft footsteps behind you. You grin, about to tease Frankie for not being able to find the bathroom on his own before warm, calloused hands are on you. Shameless, needy, groping up your top, tugging your bra down, cupping your breasts, tweaking your nipples.

Your body goes quickly liquid at the familiar touch, all smart quips dying in your throat as Joel ruts against you from behind, the weight of his hard cock hot and firm against your ass, barely disguised by his grey sweatpants. Your hands come to grip at the countertop, and you try to get the words out to tell him not now, Frankie’s here, but all that escapes is a moan. 

‘’M glad you’re home, baby,’ he growls in your ear, fingers making quick work of your button and zipper. ‘Missed you. Dreamed of you. Did ya miss me, too?’ as he tugs your jeans down to the tops of your thighs.

‘Joel -’ you breathe, but you’re too slow, unable to process anything beyond the fingers he dips into your panties. Usually you love him like this, swaddled in sleep, desperate to bury himself inside you, and you’d let him take you anywhere, but not right here, not right now. Your body continues to betray you, pulsing out more of the slick that has kept your underwear damp all night - the touches beneath the table, the pressure of Frankie’s cock against your thigh during pool, him pressed up against you in the doorway. Everything you’d done with Joel earlier in the day, the way he’d come apart with your tongue and your fingers, the way he’d eaten you to the point of tears, all coming together to show him how you glisten in the low light of the kitchen. The two of you are insatiable, and he groans against you, offering you his fingers to suckle as he pulls the waistband of your panties down to join your jeans. You try to mumble out around him again - Joel, wait - but he’s too fast as he sinks himself inside of you, and every thought, every word, is wiped from your brain. 

He sets a punishing pace from the off, and you take it easily, cheek pressed into the marble, head turned away from the door as you drool and whimper around him. The thick, heavy slide of his cock, covered in your slick, the wet sounds, the soft moans and pants that ricochet around the kitchen, and when he swirls a finger around your clit, your own sharp gasp heaves you to life.

‘Joel, wait - Frankie - Frankie’s here -’

But it’s too late, far too late, you realise, when you turn your head to the other side to find Frankie already stood in the entryway, leant against the frame like he’s been silently engaging you in casual conversation. Except he looks ravenous.

Joel groans from above you, tip kissing your cervix as he pumps in and out, fingers twitching over your clit to feel you tighten around him.

‘I know, baby,’ he groans, ‘He’s watchin’. See how he’s watchin’ you?’

It’s almost impossible to look, to watch Frankie take you in. The throb of Joel’s cock inside you, his fingers, the tightening knot that threatens to burst already, it’s making it hard to keep your eyes open.

‘That what you want, hermosa?’ Frankie asks.

You nod furiously against the marble, biting back a sob as your knees begin to give way, as you tighten, tighten, tighten, as your core locks down, your pussy growing hotter and wetter. Fuck, all that thinking, all that teasing means the build up has happened so impossibly fast, and you stumble towards the edge of the cliff already, aching for the fall.

‘Just like we said, huh?’ Joel hums. ‘You wanna be watched, don’t ya, baby girl?’ 

‘Yes - daddy -’ you choke out, and he hums again, this time speaking to Frankie.

‘Hear that? Want you to watch. Be a good boy, and watch.’ 

Frankie nods quickly, every bit the soldier; his jaw set, eyes black, curls peeking out from under his cap. In this moment, he doesn’t look like your Frankie. He looks cool, almost detached if not for the burning of his eyes. And he watches every movement, every part of your skin Joel touches, everything that is revealed to him, like he’s trying to commit it to absolute memory. The sounds, the way Joel’s cock glistens as it stretches out of you, the breath that is punched from your lungs as he pushes back in. It’s like it’s the first time he’s seen this happen.

But then, you realise, it is. 

This is the quiet, obedient Frankie who kneeled behind the door. The Frankie who didn’t move an inch, the Frankie who could do nothing but listen as the three of you fucked each other. The Frankie who curled himself over your hand as he came, hot shocks of arousal and humiliation rocking his body. And now, he gets to watch. 

But oh, how you wish he could touch. How you wish he’d come closer, away from the doorframe, how you wish he’d run his hands over your body, undress you, hold you, lick and suck and kiss you, how he could fuck your mouth as Joel fucked your tight cunt until your throat was raw, how you’d take him so deep, as deep as you could, until there would be nothing left, nothing more for you to feel or think about than what went on beyond the two men and you. You watch as his eyes rake over Joel, over you. How they track every movement, the curl of Joel’s fingers against your clit, how you gasp and choke, how Joel grits his teeth as he pounds into you, getting close now, feeling you tighten and leak and flutter around him, bunching your shirt up your back so he can press a hot kiss to your spine.

‘Give it to me,’ he groans, ‘Give it to me, baby, come on. You’ve got it, you can do it. Come for me.’

You heave a broken, high pitched whine at his words, and Frankie’s eyes snap to yours. His lips part in a breath, his only visible reaction, but it’s enough. Like the command has slipped from his lips too, your vision whitens and your back arches, fingers scrabbling against the smooth surface beneath you as you constrict so tightly around Joel you can feel the way you have to stretch again to take him in.

‘Good girl,’ he groans, ‘Such a good girl. So pretty, baby, so good. Now, tell me - tell me where you want it -’

You moan again, eyes flicking back to Frankie when they roll from the back of your skull. The thought crosses your mind, but you can’t find the words, can’t feel your legs, only the grip of Joel's fingers as he changes tack - ‘Tell me, or I’ll decide.’

You gasp out a fuck, forehead pressed against the counter, trying to decide whether you’re brave enough to say it, brave enough to ask -

‘Please -’

But it doesn’t come from you. You roll your head on the marble to find Frankie stepping slowly into the kitchen, cheeks pink, chest rising and falling quickly. 

‘I can - let me help -’ Fuck. Fuck. You try to twist to gauge Joel's reaction, but his mind is made up so quickly you only get the chance to feel desperately empty before he tells Frankie to kneel.

The younger man drops to his knees beside you m, in front of Joel, chest heaving now, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously - and you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him so bad, but the thought is quickly whisked away as Joel steps closer, fisting his thick cock in his hand.

‘You want this?’ He grits. Frankie nods eagerly, transfixed by the man above him, eyes flicking between Joel’s and the swollen head of his cock, soaked with your slick and cum, dribbling the precursor of Joel’s own release. ‘Show me.’

Frankie’s mouth falls open instantly, his tongue sliding past his lips to welcome the tip of Joel’s cock. You moan, knees finally giving out, landing next to Frankie. He doesn’t take his eyes off Joel.

The older man gasps out a curse at the sight, before ropes of thick, milky cum spurt from his tip onto Frankie’s tongue, filling his mouth, weaker pulses landing on his chin as Joel squeezes the last of his release out. You tear your eyes from Frankie to the man above you, the way he pants, eyes aflame, jaw slack.

‘Swallow.’

You whip back round to Frankie to see his throat bob as he follows the instruction, and he opens his mouth again to show Joel that he’s done exactly as he asked.

‘Good boy,’ he drawls, swiping a thumb against his chin to collect the remnants of his spend before offering it to you. You open your mouth just as eagerly, but Joel seems to think twice. He spreads it across one cheek, and then the other, painting you, before placing the digit firmly on your tongue, allowing your tongue to lathe the taste of him from the pad. Frankie leans towards you, and then you feel his tongue, warm and wet against your cheek, licking away at the cum that Joel spread there. Joel chuckles at him.

‘Desperate for more.’ 

Frankie hums against you, tongue now flicking at the corner of your lips. Joel raises an eyebrow at you.

‘What are you waiting for, sweetheart?’ he purrs, ‘Show Frankie how well he did.’

You twist your head to Frankie’s, one hand going to the back of his head, fisting his curls, the other tracing the waistband of his jeans, eager fingers feeling the warm skin there, trying to touch further, trying to reach him. You lick into his mouth, tongue grazing his teeth as you palm him over the denim, and he moans against you. You retract your hand from his curls and start at his fly before a sharp, trilling noise makes you flinch back. His phone rings in his back pocket.

‘Ignore it, don’t worry about it,’ he says, pulling you back towards him, his mouth soft and urgent against yours, your fingers clumsy at the front of his jeans, twisting in the material, against metal, and fuck -

‘Why do you have so many fucking buttons?’

He laughs, breathy, exasperated into your hair.

‘It’s the - it’s the fucking style - there’s no zipper, it’s just buttons -’

You giggle as well, the ringing of his phone chiming off as you hear Joel say ‘just buttons?’ from behind you.

You manage to get two undone before his phone begins to ring again, and this time he breaks the kiss to drag it out off his pocket and silence it. He glances at the screen, hisses a fuck, and bites his bottom lip. You stall your movements, frowning at him.

‘You okay?’

‘One sec -’

He declines the call, but you see he’s missed messages as well. His brow pulls tighter as he reads them, and he scrubs an irritated hand over his face before looking back at you, his eyes dark, apologetic, pissed off.

‘I gotta go,’ he says, forehead knocking against yours before he’s wobbling to his feet, breathless, ‘I gotta - it’s Benny, I don’t know - I don’t know what it is, but -’ His phone pings with another text, and he breathes out a fuck’s sake. ‘I’m sorry -’

‘Hey,’ Joel says softly, and you look back up at him. He still looks as wrecked as before, but he’s straightened himself out and his gaze is softened by concern. Without looking, he holds a hand out to pull you up off the floor, and you gratefully accept, pulling up your jeans. ‘It’s okay, really, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry - what’s happened?’

Frankie relaxes, exhales.

‘Bar fight. Benny and Will were still there when we left. Looks like Benny’s managed to piss the wrong people off.’ he pauses. ‘Again.’ 

Joel chuckles, lands a hand on his shoulder.

‘Got a little brother just like it. You want us to come with?’

Frankie looks from you to Joel, and shakes his head.

‘No,’ he smiles, ‘Thanks, that’s alright. Can’t be getting distracted on my way there. Won’t be much help in jail.’

You grin at him, straightening his shirt, his curls, and he lets you fuss. You swipe your thumb at the corner of his mouth, and he flushes. 

‘Are you sure?’ You ask.

He huffs a laugh, adjusting himself through his jeans, and you pout a little at his discomfort.

‘No,’ he admits, ‘But I’ll be alright. Honestly.’

‘Okay,’ you say, ‘Okay.’

He smiles again, dipping to kiss your cheek before shyly, hesitantly doing the same to Joel. You watch the smile that blooms across the older man’s lips before you find yourself mirroring it. 

‘I’ll walk you to your truck.’ Joel says. Frankie nods gratefully, and you hum as Joel squeezes your waist before heading towards the front door. 

‘See you next time, baby.’ You murmur to Frankie.

‘Next time.’ He whispers back, grinning and turning to follow Joel. He makes it to the open doorway before you remember.

‘Frankie -’ you call, and he turns, framed by the night behind him. You make a motion at your crotch, and he cocks his head at you. ‘Buttons.’ You stage-whisper, and he laughs as he adjusts himself, refastening the two you managed to get undone.

‘See you soon, hermosa,’ he says softly, and you smile as he follows Joel out to his truck.

You can’t sleep.

You’d bored quickly of tossing and turning, Joel dead to the world beside you, and had slunk downstairs for a glass of water. There’s a niggling feeling in your chest, something left unsatisfied. Guilty that, yet again, Frankie had not been given what he deserved, guilty that you hadn’t had time to see it through. And you just want to know if he’s okay, if he’s safe. You shoot him a text, leant against the marble he had watched you get fucked over less than two hours ago. Just a quick hey, are you okay?

You bite at your thumb, tap out another one - did you get home safe? He replies almost instantly.

Hey. I did. All good. I’m great. Had a great time

Then -

Thank you

You chew your lip a while, frowning, trying to work out if you believe him or not. God, texting sucks. Maybe you should call. You should call, just to check, even though he stayed, even though he watched, even though he said yes, even with the text -

But Frankie takes the decision from you with the next message, a voicenote minutes long. You wind yourself up for whatever it could possibly be, but nothing prepares you for the breathy moan that emanates loudly from your phone, so surprised that you almost drop the device. It’s followed by another, and the slick sound of what you can only assume to be Frankie’s fist fucking his cock, filtered through his quick, hot breaths. You close your eyes in rapt attention, dropping a hand to cup your sex as you listen to him whimper, as you listen to him whisper how good it feels, how he wants you, how he can still taste Joel in his mouth, how he’s about to come, how he’s coming - 

It takes you an embarrassingly short amount of time to follow him, chest heaving against the cool marble of the counter top, legs shaky as you stand up right.

There’s not a peep from upstairs. You decide to let Joel sleep this one out.

You’ll send him the audio in the morning.

———

Work is slow, and is only sped up by being, in Joel’s words, an insufferable tease.

You’d bounded around the bedroom this morning, still secretly thrilled with the voicenote from last night, not heeding Joel’s pleas to come back to bed as he watched you don his favourite matching set, stockings, a tight little pencil skirt and blouse, before pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his mouth and floating out the door to work. You made sure to send him a pretty little picture of your dripping cunt on your lunch break, quickly followed by Frankie’s voicenote, and to your delight, receive a video of him coming hard in return.

You bite your lip, squirming at your desk, sure you’ll soak through your skirt when he sends you a follow up message soon after.

You got plans tonight?

No? You shoot back.

Good. Stay free, baby

And oh, you don’t plan on being anything but before he leaves tomorrow.

———

When you get home from work, Joel is waiting. 

Waiting conspicuously in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks, a couple buttons undone so you’re greeted with the warm sight of his chest as he opens the door. He looks… divine. And he smells just as good, too. You press your lips to his quickly.

‘You look gorgeous,’ you smile, palm against his chest, one hand on his cheek to smooth the hair of his moustache. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Come upstairs,’ he says, smiling. ‘I wanna show you something.’

You raise an eyebrow, all manner of possibilities flashing through your mind before you drop your bag in the hallway and take his outstretched hand.

With one hand on your hip and another over your eyes, Joel guides you towards the bed. His fingers are warm and clammy over your eyelids, and you giggle as you both stumble forwards, the shadow of a bitten laugh trickling into your ear from behind you. 

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘One more second, ‘n you’ll find out.’

Joel brings you to a gentle stop before positioning you at just the angle he wants before taking his hand away from your face. He chuckles to find your eyes still squeezed shut. 

‘Open your eyes, baby.’

You blink them open, taking a long moment to realise what it is he’s showing you.

Laid out on the bed is a beautiful short and silken black dress. 

A short breath bursts from your lips as you step forwards to take the hem delicately in your fingers. 

‘Joel…’ you whisper, accusatory. It feels like water, so luxurious beneath your fingertips that you want to scold him for buying it. But when you turn and find his eyes bright, excited, soft, the guilt dies easily in your chest. ‘It’s beautiful.’

He shrugs, trying to disguise how pleased he is with your reaction. 

You step back towards him, taking his face in your hands, pressing kisses anywhere you can. 

‘Thank you,’ you murmur, ‘Thank you, baby, thank you. You really didn’t have to, but thank you.’

He scoffs lightly against your lips, hands gripping your hips again. 

‘’Course I did,’ he grins. A dirty, secret little thing. ‘You needed something to wear for tonight.’

A worry tugs in your chest. Tonight? Have you forgotten something? Fuck - should you have bought him something, too? It can’t be the anniversary of anything, you haven’t even -

As though he’s read your thoughts, Joel pulls you closer, one hand drifting lower to palm your ass. 

‘We’re going on a date.’

‘A date?’

Mhm, he hums against your mouth. 

‘Surprise date.’

‘You bought this for a date?’

You give him your most serious look, head tilted, movements stilled. Pink flushes up from beneath his shirt collar. 

‘Yeah, darlin’. Special dress for a special girl.’

You frown a little. 

‘Where are we going where I’ll need to dress like that?’

Joel bites his lip. 

‘Nice restaurant. We’re all getting dressed up.’

‘All?’

Joel extracts himself from your fingers, moving to fix his slicked back hair.

‘Joel. All?’

He shrugs again, looks at you over his shoulder in the mirror. 

‘I had some help choosing the dress.’

Fuck. Fuck. Heat flashes between your thighs so quickly that you sit down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Joel smirks at you through the glass as you try and regulate your breathing. Your heart thrums in your chest as the thoughts clash through your head - Frankie on his knees behind the door, his wide, hungry eyes, Frankie on his knees in front of Joel, the drip of your cunt onto the floor, the full, overwhelming feeling of Joel claiming you after Santi, Santi’s fingers on your jaw, you look at your daddy when you come for me -

Joel squats down in front of you, his knees popping, two fingers lifting your chin. 

‘Need to get ready, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘Rude to keep the boys waiting.’

You suck in a hot breath, eyes glazed, body warm and fluid already. 

‘Are - are they coming back here?’

‘Not tonight,’ he murmurs. ‘Want you to myself before I head out in the morning.’

He stands as you blink up at him, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth

‘Soon, baby,’ he reassures, ‘You’ll have us soon.’

———

Joel holds your hand as you descend the marble steps into the sunken restaurant. It’s gorgeous - classy - maybe a little too much, but you can’t find the wherewithal to care when he leads you to your table. Frankie and Santi are already seated and looking equally as handsome. They stand as you approach, Frankie flushing as he takes you in, kissing your cheek, Pope letting out a low whistle as he does the same.

You talk over glasses of wine, nibbles of bread, and your starter course; conversation often interrupted by anecdotes and jokes and observations of other patrons that definitely could have waited til later. Joel fills the boys in on the contract he’ll be away on up in Tulsa until late next week, and Pope says he will be flying back to Colombia for a few days to straighten out a couple loose ends with his last contract. You frown at him, having not been aware of this most recent development, but he’s quick to assure you that it is just that. Paperwork and documents he needs to ensure can be sealed away, picking up a couple of things from the Embassy, catching up with a couple of old colleagues, and then heading home. The boys never really talk about exactly what went down those years ago when they lost Tom, and frankly you’re not sure if you want to know. From what they have said, it was rash, greedy, and all but fucked from the start. Not something you’re particularly keen on imagining. But you’re glad that, this time, he’ll be safe and keeping away from it.

Joel and Santi share a glance over your head, and you realise you should have known. Should have known they’d be plotting and scheming.

It doesn’t take as long as it did the first time to set out the rules.

With the older men away, you and Frankie are free to spend your time as you see fit. Neither of you need to be looked after, neither of you need to be kept an eye on, but Santi and Joel phrase the opportunity to spend time together as more of a challenge. To see how you can work each other up, how well you can behave without either of them there to tell you what to do and how to do it. You’re grinning into your wine as you imagine it, all of the things you can do without actually fucking, until Joel halts your train of thought.

‘There’s one rule,’ he says. You pause mid-sip. He spears a piece of asparagus with his fork, bringing it to his mouth. ‘You can’t touch each other.’

You swallow, confused, looking across to Frankie, who is suddenly unable to meet your eye, and then to Pope, who watches the two of you with a cruelly delighted smirk.

‘We - what?’ You ask, confused.

‘Can’t touch,’ Joel says again, ‘’s your only rule. Dinner, drinks, movies, hell, sleepin’ in the same bed is fine. You just can’t touch.’ 

You stare at him. This is it. He’s lost his damn mind. 

‘Little challenge for you, baby girl,’ he says, ‘I know Frankie can do it. This one’s for you.’

You open your mouth, about to protest how that can’t possibly be fair before snapping your jaw closed again. Joel watches, amused. This is not an argument you will win.

‘Fine.’ You say, even as Santi snickers at the fact that it’s evidently not. You decide on a change of tact. ‘And myself?’ Frankie finally looks up at you, eyes wide. Your lips curl in a pleased smile as Santi takes a steadying sip of his drink.

‘You can touch yourself, darlin’’ Joel says, unfazed, ‘Never said you couldn’t do that.’

You nod, gears turning. An idea forming, one you tamp down by resting your hand on Joel’s thigh.

‘Was Benny okay last night?’ You ask Frankie, changing the subject. Your fingers begin their slow and steady stroke up and down Joel’s thigh as you watch the younger man flush.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘He was only arrested for starting a bar fight -’

Your hand pauses only briefly on Joel’s thigh.

‘He was arrested?’

Frankie grins.

‘Yep. Not the first time. One day he might learn his lesson.’

You chuckle along with Joel and Santi.

‘Was he okay?’

‘Always is,’ Frankie says, ‘Lucky motherfucker. You should see the other guy.’

You smile, scraping your nails along Joel’s pants now, pleased when he shifts in his seat. He leans in close to your ear.

‘Knock it off, princess. I know exactly what you’re tryna do.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Never said I couldn’t touch you, daddy.’

You turn back to face Frankie, and he eyes you suspiciously. 

‘Don’t miss those days,’ Joel says, and Frankie’s eyes flick to him. ‘Tommy straightened out once he met Maria. Think the worst time I had to bail him out was the night’a my 36th birthday. He near caused a riot at some bar downtown. They still won't let him back in.’

‘Can imagine Tommy raining hell down on ‘em,’ Pope says, beside you. ‘He and Benny would make a hell of a team.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Sure would,’ he says, and you slide your palm over to cup him through his pants. He’s rock hard, cock twitching at your touch. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. ‘She made him into a better man, my sister-in-law. Keeps him far outta trouble.’

His hand finds your own thigh beneath the table, squeezing as Santi begins to regale a story from his younger days with the boys. He starts the same ministrations as you, stroking, scraping, higher and higher, up to where you’re dripping, soaking yourself -

‘Joel.’ You whisper, something urgent in your voice. Why isn’t he stopping?

You’re suddenly nervous at the fact you’d decided to forego any underwear for the sake of the dress, before realising that is exactly what Joel had wanted. Like he knew you’d be running your hand up and down his thigh at the table, like he knew you’d be teasing him. Like he knew he could not only tease right back, but win the whole damn game. Smug bastard. He can read you like a book.

He leans in close to murmur into the conch of your ear.

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby,’ as he pushes your dress higher to cup your sex. You clench your jaw as he chuckles underneath his breath, feeling how wet you are, how much more slick spills out at the pressure he applies. 

His fingers move up to circle your clit gently, and you let out a shaky breath. You watch him from the corner of your eye, his chin in his fist, eyes sparkling as he listens to and watches the two other men, as his movements against your cunt grow firmer, faster. You reach for your wine glass, eyes flicking to Frankie, only to find him looking at you, eyes bright with amusement. You narrow your eyes, and Joel leans in again.

‘Good girl, he says, ‘You’re gonna keep looking at Frankie, and I’m gonna make you come like this. And next time, you’re not gonna play any of your games in the middle of a restaurant.’

You grit your teeth against the whimper that fights to escape as quiet falls at the table, the conversation quickly forgotten as Frankie leans back in his chair, smirking, watching intensely. You don’t break eye contact as Santi’s hand drifts to the soft flesh of your thigh, drawing goosebumps as it nears Joel’s, as he traces the seam of your cunt, smearing the wetness around your skin. You don’t even look when Pope brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking the tips before releasing them with a lewd pop.

‘Good enough to eat.’

Your cunt throbs in response, breathing coming more laboured as Joel’s fingers work you tighter, tighter, slipping away to hook your thigh out wider, only to be replaced by Santi’s. Once he’s satisfied with your new position, he slips his hand beneath Pope’s, working the digits easily into your pussy, pumping in and out, curling to find that sweet spot within you. A small, desperate noise escapes you, and you set your glass down, your drink forgotten as you clutch at the napkin closest to you, body burning, buzzing, throbbing with pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough.

You break eye contact with Frankie, holding your breath and biting your lip so hard you’re sure you’ll either pass out or draw blood.

‘No, baby,’ Joel rumbles into your hair, ‘Keep looking at Frankie. He’s gonna watch you come like this.’ You moan quietly again, meeting Frankie’s eyes, hot and close, so close.

Santi leans in so you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, goading, teasing -

‘Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.’

Your orgasm clatters through you, the tightly bound knot bursting as you lean forward onto the table, trying to stop your body from twitching. You feel yourself tighten and clench around Joel’s fingers, feel your thighs grow wetter, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Pope looses a quiet groan. The fire and heat of it make it almost impossible to keep quiet, a moan slipping past your lips as Joel retracts his fingers too quickly to pat you on the back in some kind of misleading gesture. Santi keeps his fingers pressed to your clit for as long as possible, letting you ride it out, before circling it again.

A gasped fuck passes your lips, and you slam your fist down onto the table, clattering the silverware and glasses. The action draws a chuckle from Santi and Joel, and sharp looks from the two tables closest to you.

You cough a little, trying to affect the pretence of choking, spluttering, anything that doesn’t look like you just came in the middle of a restaurant. 

When you haul your body back to sit upright, Joel moves his hand to your thigh, and Santi follows suit. Their fingers are wet against you, and you try not to look, try not to feel it, but it’s impossible. The slick feeling, the heat, the pressure. You could go again.

But, god, your throat is so dry.

As if on cue, the waitress appears at your shoulder to refill your water. You try to clear your throat to express your gratitude before noticing the deep red flush clawing up her neck, her gaze drawn to each hand still splayed on your thigh, dress rucked a little higher than it should be. You smile sheepishly at her, finally whisper a thank you.

When she leaves the table, you heave a deep breath, your head in your hands.

‘Almost.’ Joel whispers in your ear.

You resist the urge to flip him off, and instead decide the best way to get a hold of yourself is to head to the bathroom. Clean yourself up, splash a little cold water on your face. 

‘Excuse me,’ you murmur, voice hoarse and strained, and Frankie can’t help the smile that reaches his eyes. Looking to Joel and Santi, it appears they feel the same way. You grin despite yourself as you stand on unsteady legs, Joel’s hands shooting out to steady you as you giggle at the three of them, enjoying their favourite game.

‘Fuck you guys,’ you laugh as you turn on your heel, and they mirror your chuckles.

You’re almost to the door of the restroom when your waitress catches your eye. You try to smile at her and glide past without drawing any more attention to yourself, but fail.

‘Ma’am,’ she calls softly, stepping just in front of you. Your stomach twists. Fuck, she knows. She knows, and she’s gonna kick you all out, you’re gonna get arrested - ‘Are you alright?’

You blink at her, surprised. And then it clicks. One woman, surrounded by three men. The hands on your thighs, your dress. Three men who have been talking intently, possessively, obviously, even if they can’t be heard. You exhale.

‘Oh no, it’s - yes. Thank you for checking. That’s - really kind of you. I’m fine. We’re friends - I mean - it’s complicated - but it’s nothing to worry about.’

It’s complicated? Why the fuck did you say that? You twist your fingers as you try and work out how to extricate yourself from the hole you’ve dug, but your mind draws a blank. You pray she missed your phrasing, her eyes searching your face as you give her your warmest smile. It’s only a moment before she returns it, even brighter.

‘Oh, like a - what is it - a polyamorous thing? That’s neat. You get it, cowgirl,’ she grins, before clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my god,’ she gasps, ‘I’m so sorry, that was so unprofessional -’

You laugh, somewhat relieved, placing a gentle hand on her arm - it soothes her.

‘No, please,’ you giggle, ‘It’s fine, really.’

She peels her fingers back from her lips nervously and massages her temples.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she whispers, before meeting your eye again. ‘I’m sorry. But as long as you’re good. You know, taken care of.’ You watch as she cringes at herself. You reach out again to press her bicep.

‘Really, it’s fine,’ you say, glancing back to your table. You feel… warm as you look over at the three of them - relaxed, laughing. Warm at how easily you can all move back and forth in this dynamic. Warm at the feel of the slick around the tops of your legs. ‘I’m very well taken care of. And it’s really good of you to check.’

She smiles at you again as you step away towards the bathroom.

‘Oh, not at all,’ she says, bashful. ‘I’m glad. You guys have fun.’

The rest of the night passes easily, wrapped in conversation and good food. Jokes are whipped across the table so fast that the four of you cackle with laughter, the air sizzling with good humour and lightness. Joel has his hands on you whenever he can, and when you finally leave the restaurant just before closing time, Pope holds you tenderly, kisses both cheeks, and murmurs that he hopes you learned your lesson. You smack his arm and tell him to be safe in Colombia. Frankie does the same, but departs with a remark about how beautiful you looked instead - ‘especially when you come, hermosa’ he adds.

Joel makes sure you remember what he taught you at the table, taking the time to rock you through orgasm after orgasm in his bed until you’re in tears, until he’s sure the neighbours can hear you calling yes daddy, thank you daddy, I’m sorry daddy over the lawn.

He pulls you close afterwards, pressing kisses to any slither of skin he can, telling you how well you did, how proud you make him, how good you can be when you try. He only leaves to head through to the bathroom to turn on the shower, making you promise to join him when you can rouse yourself from the snuggly duvet. You don’t take much convincing.

Once you can hear him humming under the flow of water, you pad downstairs to the bag you’d left in the hallway yesterday. You root around in it before finding what you need, clutching it to your chest with a thrill before retreating back to Joel’s bedroom. You bury it in his suitcase, underneath at least a day’s worth of clothes, before stripping and joining him in the shower.

———

When you wake the next morning, Joel’s suitcase is already zipped shut, and the smell of coffee is drifting up the stairs.

You find him sat at the breakfast table, staring out into the weak morning sunshine, a steaming mug already set down for you across from him. You drift past him, a hand trailing from one shoulder, over his broad back, to the next, tracing the lines of your favourite plaid shirt, before pressing a kiss to his temple. 

You sit quietly in each other’s company, the silence slowly turning to low conversation. What route he’ll be taking, where he’ll be staying, what the job will involve, what the people are like. What your work week looks like, what the book you’re reading is about, what you’ll do with him gone. You settle your chin on your palm.

‘Any other rules I should know about?’

Joel looks back at you with amusement written all over his face.

‘No. Jus’ don’t try anything at dinner again. Or do. I’m always happy to remind you.’

You giggle, and he grins back, all white teeth and crinkly eyes.

‘You know, even the waitress asked if I was okay afterwards.’

He grunts, enough of a question in it for you to continue.

‘I mean, I don’t think she saw anything go down. But she saw me with you guys and asked if I was okay.’

Joel raises his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’ 

You falter.

‘I guess… you know. Me, with you guys. Just making sure nothing - weird was going on.’

‘Weird?’

‘Bad.’ You say. Joel’s eyes soften, but his brow furrows.

‘I said no, of course. That we’re all friends. I don’t know. I rambled. She asked - she asked whether it was a polyamorous thing,’ you shrug.

‘’N what did you say?’

Something about the way Joel asks the question catches you off guard. A little brusque, a little too quick off his tongue. Your eyes narrow slightly.

‘Nothing,’ you admit, ‘I didn’t want to get into the semantics of what we do with a stranger. And - I don’t know what to call it. I don’t know if that is what it is.’

‘It something you’re interested in?’

You blink at him. He’s not looking at you, his jaw set, body tense. You feel your own jaw clench.

‘Is it something you’re interested in?’

Joel chews the side of his cheek, brow knitted as he looks out to the garden into the morning sunlight.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, ‘Not really thought about it before.’

You soften at the way his body deflates. Remember this is just as fresh for him as it is for you. You nod, reach out to take his massive hand in yours. His eyes swing back to you, and you squeeze his fingers. 

‘You don’t have to think about it,’ you reassure him, ‘All of this is new. All of it. And if you want to talk about it, we’ll talk about it. But -’ you say, reaching to hold his other hand, too, ‘I want you to know none of it changes how I feel about you. You are enough for me. You will always be enough for me.’

Joel searches your face, quiet and serious. You lift his hands to your lips and press a tender kiss to his knuckles.

‘I love you.’ You say, softly.

There’s no sound through the quiet dawn of the world but a quiet intake of breath from Joel across the table. Your eyes flick up to him at the sound, to the brows slightly further up his tan forehead, his wide, surprised, brown eyes. And you realise that it’s slipped from you, aloud, for the first time. All that time spent thinking it, knowing it, feeling it, but those words in that order have been yet to pass either of your lips. In the conversations between sharing spaces, meeting families, spending time with friends, you’d forgotten to put into words what you’d assumed Joel already knew.

I love you.

You still, his hands unmoving before your lips, releasing a quiet exhale of your own.

‘I love you,’ you say again, even softer. And then, through heat rising in your chest - ‘You don’t have to say it back. If you’re not ready yet - you don’t have to ever say it back if you don’t want to -’

He grips your hands tight.

‘I love you.’ he says, gravelly and warm. And you believe him. See it in all its molten gold truth in his eyes. I love you.

You can’t help the delighted little laugh that falls from your lips. The same sound slips from Joel, and you sit, giggling and grinning at each other, in love, unaware of the minutes that tick by. You bite your lip.

‘Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?’

Joel baulks at you, laughter frozen on his lips. Your heart squeezes, joy almost overtaken by nerves.

‘You mean - did I never ask you that?’

You shake your head slowly.

Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth. Something passes over his features; embarrassment, shame -

‘I’m sorry,’ he says lowly, a flush colouring his cheeks, ‘I’m sorry - I just - I assumed -’ he ducks his head away from you, ‘What an ass -’

You giggle at him, and he fixes you with his best puppy dog eyes.

‘Joel,’ you smile, ‘It’s okay, honestly -’

But he shakes his head.

‘No,’ he winces, ‘Sarah would be - so disappointed in me if she knew. She -’ he fixes you with an apologetic stare again, ‘She knew I loved you before you did. My God. And Tommy - Tommy would be wringing my neck, and my Momma - she raised me better than this -’

‘Joel,’ you laugh, standing from your chair to circle the table. Instinctively, he spreads his thighs for you to sit, and you settle down onto him, your legs perpendicular to his. You thread your arms around his neck, holding him close, and a warm palm comes to pet the small of your back. ‘Relax. Please don’t worry about it,’ you press a kiss to the patch in his beard, and he leans his head into you, eyes closed. ‘Besides. I kinda assumed it, too.’

His eyes open, so full of warmth, love.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘Do ya wanna be my girlfriend?’ 

You huff a laugh into his neck, resting on his shoulder.

‘Baby,’ you tease, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

You spend a little while longer like that, curled up in his lap like a cat, sharing kisses and giggles, until Joel checks his watch and sighs. You clamber off him and follow him upstairs, leaning against the doorframe as he makes his final checks.

‘Joel,’ you call softly, hesitating. You cringe in the doorway. ‘Is it - seeing Frankie for dinner tonight, is that - is that still okay?’

He smiles and steps towards you, gathering you in his arms.

‘You know what the limits are,’ he says into your hair. ‘I trust you. ’F I didn’t want you to do something, you’d have known about it before dinner. ’Sides,’ he says, ‘You’ll look good together at that table. I’ll be thinkin’ bout it while I’m away.’

You snort and rest your forehead against his chest, breathing his scent in.

‘Just wanted to check.’ You mumble. Joel presses a kiss to your hair, rocking you side to side.

‘I love you.’ He says.

‘Love you too.’ You whisper.

Minutes later, you watch his truck peel away from the house, waving through the rays of sunlight now peeking out from the trees. He waves back, his arm out the driver’s side window, until the truck disappears from view. You swallow the lump in your throat, wash the coffee mugs, gather your clothes, and lock Joel’s front door behind you.

———

Joel calls you later in the afternoon to let you know he’s arrived safe. And Frankie texts to let you know he’s picking you up at seven.

When you get home from work, you busy yourself with a shower, with laundry you’ve held off, with tidying the house, and when you’re settled, ready, you call Joel again. Just to hear his voice, just to know he’s eaten. He chuckles a melody down the line at your fussing, but before he has to hang up, he lets slip that he misses you already, just as much. 

When seven rolls around, you feel warm, giddy, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you wait for the sound of tyres outside. 

Frankie greets you at your door, relaxed in a t-shirt that strains across his arms, his signature cap, and a beaming smile. You melt a little at the sight of him, so boyish, so bashful, so handsome, that you have to forcefully remind yourself of the rules. No touching, which must surely extend to no kissing. Still, as though he can’t help himself, he keeps a palm on the small of your back as he leads you into the small restaurant he’s chosen and plays with your fingers while you’re sat at your table.

You eat and talk, laughing and smiling like you always do. He asks about work, the projects you’re working on, and you fill him in on all the office gossip. How one of the line managers got fired last week, how Trisha from accounting is pregnant. He asks question after question until you laugh and remind him that you want to talk about him as well, and he flushes shyly. You ask about Lucia, about work, about flying again. He tells you about the places he’s been, the people he’s taken there, and one nightmare trip from last week where one woman refused to get in the helicopter, too scared to fly, until she had to be told that it was part of the proposal her boyfriend had planned. 

You order gelato for dessert and share it with two spoons, giggling as you feed it to each other. You both get a text from Santi, a selfie of him sipping a beer, looking warm and delicious. You get a text from Joel, too, a picture of him straight out of the shower which sets your cunt throbbing, hoping you’re having a good night.

Frankie insists on settling the check and walks you back to his truck with a warm palm still on your skin. He opens the door for you, waiting for you to settle in your seat before he shuts it and crosses to the driver’s side.

He drives you to a spot overlooking the city, and you stay in the cab, seatbelts unbuckled, turned towards each other, swapping stories like teenagers at a sleepover. You try not to think too hard as the night settles in around you. Try not to watch his hands, his thick fingers, the way his arms bunch and flex, how strong his thighs look, how good he smells. But it’s so hard, so hard when he’s right across from you, smiling, eyes trailing over your body, getting caught on your lips, watching the way your limbs are draped in his truck. The way he’s looking at you makes it hard to remember the rules, hard to resist leaning over the console and pressing your mouth to his, especially when he lowly confesses how badly he wants to kiss you.

You huff a breathless laugh, looking away from him out to the shimmering skyline outside the window screen. Try to distract yourself with how the distant lights of the city shimmer like moonlight on water, how the structures of the skyscrapers reach up to the night flights swooping over the horizon. Something as far away from your body as possible, so you don’t have to think about Frankie’s warm, broad chest, what he would sound like moaning against you. 

‘I wish you would,’ You whisper. When you turn back to look at Frankie, he is already watching you. Pressed against the driver’s side door, mouth slightly open, his eyes sparkling and dark. ‘You could kiss me.’

His mouth closes with a gentle snap of his teeth, and he shakes his head.

‘You know I can’t do that.’

You nod, eyes finding the skyline again.

‘I know. But I still wish you would.’

In the silence that follows, you can feel slick drooling and cooling from your cunt, soaking your panties. You shift in your seat, unsure whether you’re trying to ignore or resolve the discomfort. Frankie watches you still, and when you wriggle again, his own hips shift. You fix him with a stare, the air hot and thick between you. You curve your body towards him, one hand coming down gently to hold yourself over the console.

‘They wouldn’t know. If we kissed.’

Frankie continues to stare as you remain frozen, poised before him.

‘I know.’

‘Then let me kiss you.’

‘No, hermosa.’

You look back and forth between his eyes and his lips, watching his throat bob as he tries to keep his distance.

You slump backwards a little, trying not to feel any kind of acute rejection. You’re just hot, bothered, unbearably aroused in the cabin of his truck. His refusing to kiss you isn’t a mark on his desire, just his self control. Muscle memory of years of following instructions. Frankie turns his body, facing forward out the windscreen in his seat. He swipes his palms over the steering wheel, and your lips part, cunt burning when you imagine those hands on you again, huge palms sweeping down your curves, your thighs, up between your legs -

‘I’m not gonna kiss you, because then I’ll need to fuck you.’

Your gasp zips past your lips before you can stop it. Frankie keeps his eyes trained forwards as you stare at him. Your pussy clenches around nothing, needing something to sate it, a touch, a glance, anything -

‘Frankie -’

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the wheel.

‘Please, Frankie, I’ll be so good -’

‘Enough.’

You watch his nostrils flare, watch a muscle in his jaw tick. Watch a certain darkness sweep over his features, and you know, you know you’ve won.

He never stood a chance.

‘Tell me,’ you whisper, and he shakes his head, skull pressed into the headrest, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. ‘I want you to tell me. Tell me how you’d fuck me.’

Frankie closes his eyes slowly, his shoulders tensing, breath faltering. 

‘No,’ he whispers, ‘No, baby, I can’t do that -’

You whine, hands scrubbing down your bare thighs, trying to find something to grip, to hold, something that’s not him -

‘God - it aches, Frankie,’ you whine, wriggling in the seat, and his eyes flick back and forth over you; your pathetic attempts to grind into something, the heaving of your chest, the wild, desperate look in your eyes.

‘What, baby? What aches?’ He breathes, and he’s tilting forwards towards the centre console like he could pounce on you, like he could hold your hands in a tight, binding grip behind your back, like he could eat you here, devour you here -

You whimper by way of an answer, hands finally resting on the hem of your skirt, pushing it up, up to rest at your hips. Frankie watches, eyes molten and black as you cup yourself, as you grind against your hand. He moans loudly at the sight.

‘There, hermosa?’

You shudder out a sigh, a hissed yes as you apply more pressure. His throat bobs as he considers, as he weighs his options.

‘Please, Frankie -’ you beg, though you’re not sure what for. Rules, rules, but none of them seem to make sense anymore, none of them seem to matter as you lick your own lips at his growing bulge in his jeans. He breathes in harshly, swiping a palm across his mouth before he fixes you with a look that makes you feel dizzy. He swallows thickly.

‘Show me.’

It's easy, so easy. You lift your hips from the seat and slide your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, down, watching him the whole time. He waits like he’s forgotten how to breathe, this starving, tortured look in his eyes like he’s dying of thirst and water is just out of reach. You spread your legs for him and dip your fingers to your slit, gathering the slickness there before trailing the digits further up, spreading yourself in a v shape so he can see everything, see how you throb, how your clit twitches, how you leak down into the cleft of your ass. 

‘Need you, Frankie,’ you whine, ‘Need you to -’

He lurches back like he’s been shocked.

‘Don’t,’ he grits, ‘Don’t, you know I can’t touch you -’

‘Then watch,’ you breathe, ‘He said don’t touch. But you can watch. I can watch.’

‘Watch?’ he repeats, breathless, body shifting, open, and you nod, rutting against your palm. 

‘Yeah,’ you murmur, ‘Frankie, baby, let me watch you. Need to see you.’

He stares at you, something working behind his eyes.

‘Watch,’ he says again, nodding, ‘Yeah, please baby, is that okay? Can I watch?’

You nod, relishing in the control that he shifts so easily to you. You trace the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading the glistening wetness so it catches every stream of moonlight bruising through the window. 

‘You, too. Wanna watch you, too.’

He nods quickly, mouth agape, unable to tear his eyes away from your core. He palms himself roughly over his jeans.

You trace your fingers back over your clit, swiping it in circles until your head falls back against the window, your brows pulling together as you loose a quiet cry. You bite your lip, looking down your nose at him.

‘Is it good?’ he gasps, ‘Please - tell me - how does it feel?’

‘Good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie.’

He groans, his hands finding his button and zipper, undoing them before shifting his hips to pull his jeans down. He reaches inside his boxers to pull himself free, swollen and leaking. 

He’s thick, and just as big as you knew he would be - but he’s so pretty as well. The same tan as his skin, pink flush at his tip, skin silken, blue veins just hidden beneath the surface.  You moan, wanton and crooning, sinking a finger into yourself as he grips his base, squeezing at the sight of your digit disappearing up to the knuckle. 

Your hips lift as he begins to fuck himself slowly with his fist, lips wet and eyes blown, his other hand coming away from scratching at the denim of his thigh to cup his balls. You go slow for him as he watches, working your bud in agonisingly steady circles, pumping your finger in and out gently until you remove it completely, Frankie’s eyes drawn to the strand of slick suspended from your finger. He moans, a sick, feral sound, his head falling back against the seat to expose the straining muscles in his neck, the sweat that glimmers in the hollows before his clavicles. He jerks himself faster, tighter - tip ruddy now, beading with precum that he swipes down the length of his shaft, slick enough for you to imagine that it’s your spit, your wetness. A surge of arousal floods your fingers again, and you whimper.

‘Look at you, Frankie. So pretty.’

Frankie answers with his own choked moan as he watches you sink your finger into your heat again, but this time he grits his teeth, inhaling sharply before endowing you with an instruction -

‘Give yourself more, hermosa. Another. Know you need it, baby.’

You comply, sinking in another finger easily, rocking your hips back and forth, the sound of it obscene, loud in the quiet around you, and Frankie squeezes himself, breathless.

‘Fuck, hermosa, you’re so wet - so wet. Does that feel good?’

You nod frantically, speeding up your movements until Frankie matches your rhythm, his body tense, his tip turning a beautiful shade of crimson. You whimper again. This soft, sweet man, reduced to this savage across from you, fisting himself, reeling himself back from the edge just to wait to come with you. 

You watch as his eyes drop to your cunt again, as a grunt wrenches itself from his chest, and he begs you - more, please, hermosa. You oblige, sliding another of your fingers into your dripping cunt just to catch a glimmer of what he’d feel like inside of you. Your orgasm flexes, tight and searing inside of you, and you whine.

‘Close, so close, Frankie -’ you pant, and his eyes widen, fist working so furiously you wonder whether it hurts, whether he likes it like that. He groans deep in his throat.

‘Make yourself come, baby, please make yourself come. I need to watch you come.’ And you obey, seizing, pussy gripping your fingers, body curling in on itself as you come, teeth clenched to bite back your scream. Frankie falls slack in his seat, eyes glazed as his cock jerks in his grip, and you meet his eyes, gasping out -

‘Frankie - want you to come, come for me, baby boy -’ and he erupts over his hands, over the tops of his thighs and his belly with a whine, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You watch his spend trickle over his knuckles, saliva pooling in your mouth at the sight, and your fingers twitch as you pull them from inside you. You are so close to reaching out and taking it on your own fingertips to swipe against your lips, and it’s like Frankie reads your mind -

‘I want to taste you. So fucking bad.’ he gasps, gaze fixed on your shining fingers. You bring them to your mouth, tongue sweeping between the digits, beneath your nails, moaning at your own salty sweet taste. Frankie groans again, tugging his spent cock weakly if only to stop himself from reaching out to snatch your wrist to him.

‘I promise,’ you murmur between licks, ‘I promise - soon, baby - God, so soon -’

You suck your middle finger into your mouth, keeping your eyes locked with his, before releasing it with a lewd pop. Frankie looks physically pained.

‘Stop,’ he pants, ‘Just - stop. I need you to stop.’

You understand, whole body still at fever pitch despite your release. Your hands fall to your thighs. Frankie tucks himself back into his boxers and lifts his hips to fix his jeans before popping open the driver’s side door.

‘Just - give me a moment.’ He murmurs as he jumps out, leaving the door open behind him. You watch as he walks circles in the dirt beside the car, his hands on the back of his head, breathing like he’s run a marathon. It takes a minute for your own brain to catch up with you. You tug your panties back up and your skirt down, some kind of horrible anxiety, disappointment and desperation clawing up your throat. You swallow and pop your own door open, rounding the truck to find Frankie.

The air has done him good. His eyes are clearer, body more relaxed, and he watches you approach with an expression that softens at every step. He barely gets out a you oka- before you rush to him with open arms, crashing into his chest with a quiet mmph. Frankie wraps his arms around you just as quickly, rocking the two of you back and forth, swooping a palm down your back.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whisper. Frankie stops his swaying, gives your shoulder a little squeeze.

‘Why are you apologising, princesa?’ he asks, so sweet you have to swallow again before answering.

‘I don’t know,’ you murmur, ‘That was supposed to feel good, but I don’t - I don’t know how I feel -’

He holds you tighter as tears threaten in your eyes, and you will yourself not to blink, lest they fall.

‘S’okay,’ he whispers back, ‘Might be ‘cause you want it so bad,’ you feel the rumble of a chuckle ripple through his chest. ‘That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I still feel like I could rip my skin off.’

A sharp laugh bubbles out of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You blink and the tears begin to fall, and you laugh harder. The man might be right.

‘This is so weird,’ you chuckle against his chest, ‘I’ve never been so horny I’ve cried before.’

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your head.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘And it’s not weird. Feels like my brain will never work the same again.’

You laugh harder, sniffing as you pull away from him. He grins down at you, pinches your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Home?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, Frankie,’ you smile, ‘Take me home.’

Frankie holds your hand over the centre console the whole way home. You’re too tired to think about the semantics of rules, too overwhelmed to wonder what Joel or Santi would say. You grant yourself a small mercy in the passenger seat, reminding yourself that this is okay. This is aftercare. It’s necessary, Joel grumbles in your ear, it doesn’t come with rules.

When Frankie pulls up outside your place, he hops out to make sure he can the truck door for you and help you down. He walks you to your front door like he’d done so many moons ago, ever the gentleman, and waits until the door is unlocked and you’ve flicked the hallway light on. 

You turn to face him, wrapping yourself around him again. He returns the hug.

‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Will you?’

‘’course,’ he swipes the back of his hand over your cheek, and dips to press a soft, firm kiss to your forehead. ‘See you tomorrow, baby.’ He says. You pinch his cheek as he pulls away, chuckling as he bounds back down the path.

You watch his truck peel away like a teenager, standing in the doorway smiling to yourself until his tail lights disappear around the corner.

———

When Joel calls not fifteen minutes later, you’re wearing one of his shirts, grinding your bare pussy into your pillow, fingers working steadily against your clit.

You fumble with your phone, taking longer than usual to swipe to answer the call, and if that hadn’t have given you away, your pants and whimpers do. Joel chuckles warmly down the line at you.

At his ‘how you doing, baby girl?’, your mouth curves in a shy smile, and a heat blossoms in your chest. Your ‘good, daddy’ is true, a kind of peace settling over your frazzled body and mind. You let out a cooing moan before you can ask how his day’s been, and his breath catches down the line.

‘And what are you doing, baby girl?’ he asks softly, so soft, and you smile even wider.

‘Thinkin’ bout you, daddy.’ You breathe, and he hums at your words.

‘Just me?’

‘Mostly.’ You confess, and he chuckles, a honeyed sound.

‘Mostly,’ he echoes, ‘And what are you using while you’re thinking about me, baby?’

You give a strong roll of your hips, grinding down as you answer him.

‘A pillow, daddy.’

‘Mhm. Just a pillow?’

You whine.

‘Fingers, too.’

‘Greedy fuckin’ girl,’ he chuckles. You moan loudly, and are rewarded with a low grunt in return. He listens to you breathe for a moment before you hear the crackle of him shifting, moving.

‘Stop now,’ he says, gently. ‘Need to ask you somethin’.’

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, whining as you do. You can picture his smirk so clearly that you tell him to knock it off.

‘Sorry baby.’ He apologises, so disingenuous. 

‘What’s the question?’

‘I found something. In my case,’ he says. ‘Don’t suppose you’d know who put it there?’

You bite your lip.

‘Hmmm. Depends. What is it?’

You hear Joel fumble with something before he speaks again.

‘Let’s see. One of ‘em… pocket pussy things.’

‘Huh. No idea. Must have been your other girlfriend.’

He laughs.

‘Motherfucker. You damn well I can’t handle another one of you.’

You grin at your reflection. If you had a cord phone, you’d be twirling the plastic around your finger right now. Girlfriend.

‘My bad. Must have been me, then.’

‘Causing trouble even from all the way over there, huh, angel?’

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s drawing it out.

‘Sure, daddy,’ you coo. There’s a beat. ‘Have you… tried it?’

He huffs, and you can see the frown in your mind. How you’d smooth your fingers over it.

‘Ain’t need it when I’ve got you.’

‘Even when you’re far away?’

There’s a pause as Joel considers his reply.

‘You feelin’ sorry for me or somethin’?’

You sigh, letting your fingers dip to your clit. He won’t know, so long as you’re quiet.

‘Couldn’t just - leave you out, daddy,’ you huff against the phone. 

A low chuckle rumbles through from the other end, and you bite your lip.

‘So this is - what? My consolation prize?’ 

‘No,’ you frown, ‘It’s better than that. Better than your hand.’

‘Better ‘n my hand?’

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’

You roll your hips at his question, biting back a whine.

‘No, daddy.’

He hums down the line.

‘Sounds like a consolation prize to me, honey.’

You sigh again, louder this time.

‘’S not a consolation prize,’ you groan. ‘Frankie isn’t even allowed to touch me.’

Joel chuckles at you properly this time.

‘You sound disappointed, baby.’

‘I am.’

He waits. He waits, because he knows. Of course he knows.

‘We watched each other, daddy,’ you breathe. Confessional, dirty. A heat flushes up your cheeks as you tug at your t-shirt, suddenly nervous.

‘Watched?’ he asks, a smile curling the word.

Mmhm.

‘Well done, baby,’ he says, ‘I’m impressed. Though a little disappointed it didn’t take you longer to figure out.’

You giggle, and he puffs out a breath before continuing.

‘Santi told me it wouldn't be so fast. Thought it’d take you guys a little while to -’

‘He thought it’d take Frankie longer to work out,’ you interject. Joel falls silent. ‘He knows Frankie, but not me so well. You should’ve known better.’ 

Joel laughs again.

‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’ 

You smile, smug. Hum in agreement.

Joel sighs.

‘Too eager for your own goddamn good,’ he murmurs, ‘Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm?’

God, his mouth. You moan openly, rocking your hips again, ready. Ready to hear him moaning, too, ready to hear the slick sound of the toy on his dick, ready to hear him groaning your name as he comes.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Joel hums, pleased. His breathing comes a little ragged this time, making your core hotter, tighter, wetter.

‘Use it,’ you moan, ‘Please, daddy. Wanna hear you use it.’

‘I’ll use it,’ he grunts, ‘But you ain’t gonna touch yourself. Just gonna have to listen, sweetheart.’

‘Please -’ you whine, but he cuts you off with a harsh tut.

‘No. You’re gonna be good, you’re gonna listen to me first.’

You begin to groan out again but he says your name in such a tone that you feel your body shift into submission, acquiescing to his demand.

‘You’re gonna stay still,’ he tells you, ‘And you’re gonna leave that pretty pussy alone until I’m done, y’hear?’ Your eyes half close, head dipping forward.

‘Yes, daddy.’ 

‘Good girl.’

You listen closely to the pop of the cap on the bottle of lube you’d packed for him, his heavy breathing as you imagine him soaking the toy, his sharp inhale as he spreads the cool gel over himself. The pop sounds again, and you wait with baited breath.

You’re rewarded almost immediately with a groan that resonates right through your body, vibrating straight down to your cunt as though he had voiced it against your lips.

‘Gonna start with my hand, baby,’ he says, voice low and breathy, ‘Start nice and slow, just like you would if you were here, huh?’

You hum low in your throat and lick your lips.

‘Wouldn’t start like that, daddy.’ Your voice is husky, drenched in lust at the thought of Joel spread on the hotel bed stroking his cock.

‘Oh?’

‘Start with my mouth,’ you breathe, ‘I’d lick you. Get you nice and wet so I can suck on it.’

‘Yeah?’ he whispers, ‘That what you’d do, you’d suck on it?’

You ache and throb between your legs, your free hand scratching at the skin of your thigh to distract yourself. Your mouth waters at the thought.

‘Mhm, daddy. Nice and deep, how you like it. You could fuck my throat if you wanted to.’

A low, guttural sound answers you, the slick sounds of his moving fist getting faster.

‘I’d want you to hold me still while I take you, daddy. I’d want to dribble and gag and cry.’

Joel huffs.

‘Would you, baby? You’d be such a good girl for me?’

You nod, lip between your teeth, even though he can’t see you.

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘And what if daddy wants to fuck your tight little pussy, baby girl? What would you do then?’

You moan, eyes fluttering shut, hips shifting of their own accord. You grip the hem of your t-shirt.

‘I’d let you.’ you answer, helplessly.

Joel chuckles darkly. 

‘Want me to tell you what I’d do?’ He asks, and you loose a pained little sound, brows pulling together. You’re sure you’re soaking the pillow at this point, dripping through to the other side. Joel laughs again. ‘I think I’d tie you up, baby,’ he says, so low, so deep, that the world starts to drift away from you. You’re barely aware of the fact that the noise of his hand has stopped until he moans wantonly into the phone, and your eyes fly open. ‘Fuck,’ he grits, and then he huffs a cruel little laugh. ‘Was gonna tell you how I’d tie you up and fuck you, baby,’ he growls, ‘But this toy feels good ‘nough that I might just make you watch me instead.’

You whine, chin tipped up to the ceiling, hushed little cries of no, daddy, please - falling from your lips.

‘Oh, sweetheart. You don’t like the sound ‘a that?’ he asks. You shake your head, mewling, ‘No, ‘course not,’ he murmurs ‘Just wanna be stuffed full ‘a daddy’s cock, huh? Wanna be creamin’ around it way you love to, all stretched out and used, yeah?’

God, yes you do. You moan breathlessly, cunt twitching and throbbing, and you wonder whether this is enough to just come hands free. If you concentrate hard enough, if you bear down enough -

‘Maybe I’d film it,’ he muses, ‘Film it so Santiago and Francisco could watch. See how you really like to be used, how cock dumb I can make you. Would you like that, angel?’

‘Fuck, daddy, yes -’

‘Mmm. So they can see how good you look when you beg, when you’re dripping with my cum, huh, baby girl? See how good you look when you cry, when you just take it for me?’

You can tell he’s getting closer, his breathing heavier and more ragged, longer pauses between his thoughts. You wriggle on the pillow, feeling yourself flutter around nothing at the pathetic stimulation. He moans again, broken and loud, and you puff against the speaker, seeing your opportunity -

‘Come for me, daddy,’ you pant, ‘Please - come for me. Need to hear you daddy, please -’

Joel’s breath catches raggedly, once, twice, before it cuts off with a deep growl. With every resounding moan you hear, you can imagine the spurts of cum bursting from his tip. You wriggle even more, cunt burning. 

‘Atta girl,’ Joel gasps, ‘Atta girl, helping your daddy out.’

‘Please,’ you moan, breathless, ‘Please, daddy, my turn, is it -’

‘Your turn,’ he says, so warm, so sweet, ‘Go ahead, baby. Long as it’s only yourself you’re touchin’.’ 

Your fingers flutter to your clit, swiping it gently, so sensitive, and you grit your teeth.

‘Only me.’ You repeat, and you can picture Joel’s answering smile. All teeth.

‘Just you, baby girl. No touchin’ no one else. Not even Frankie.’

You stay silent, moving your hips now to drag your soaked folds against the pillow. Your head falls to your shoulder, and you moan long and loud, wondering whether you can convince Frankie, whether you’ve got enough time together to film the two of you - watching each other, then Frankie stretching you out, filling you with his cum. Something you could send to Joel and Santi, a little treat, a little teaser. 

You’ve been quiet for too long. And Joel knows. He always knows.

‘You gonna break the rules, baby girl?’ He coos. 

You smile, as though he’s read your mind.

‘How much trouble will I be in if I do?’ You ask through a moan, biting your lip.

He chuckles down the line at you. 

‘I don’t know, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘But you could always find out.’

The line clicks and beeps as he hangs up, and you stare down at your phone in disbelief. The signal must have dropped. 

Just as you fumble to press the call button again, a text flies through.

Night, babygirl x

And then another - 

Try to be good. I know it’s hard for you

You huff a laugh as you drop the phone into your lap, hips curling again over the pillow beneath you. Sonofabitch. 

You’ll behave as badly as you damn well please.

———

You and Frankie make quick work of dinner the next evening. Your hands are clammy at the dinner table, pulse fast in your neck, a flush passing high over Frankie’s collar the whole time.

He makes even faster work of the drive back to yours, scraping through red lights as you pull your skirt higher, as you skate your fingers over your thighs, over your panties, watching him the whole time. There’s a wonderful thrill when you catch him looking, when his eyes meet yours and then drift to your hands, how dark they are in the passing streetlights, the white-knuckle grip of his hands on the wheel.

You can feel the heat of him behind you as you unlock the front door, the hunger of wanting his hands on you, pushing you through the doorway, the press of his chest against your back. But you can wait. You can be good.

You move through to your kitchen with him trailing behind you, and you’re grabbing two beers from your fridge before the question of do you want a drink? is even out. When you turn to face him again, Frankie is dangerously, dangerously close. You can smell the musk of his skin, see every changing fleck of colour in his eyes, and it’s too much. You’re pressing the bottle into his chest at the same time as you’re tipping your head for a kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. He takes both bottles from your hands and places then somewhere behind you before caging you in with his thick arms, his mouth in a tight, serious line. You arch your back subconsciously, but he seems to anticipate every movement of your body; somehow still always millimetres away, like the ghost of a man pressed up against you, a layer of film between you.

He leans in so close that you can taste the hot breath he’s pouring into your mouth, so close you can feel the air moving when he tells you, so softly -

‘Take your clothes off. And sit on the couch.’

You strip yourself as you watch him do the same, eyes blown wide by every stretch of bare skin that’s revealed to you. And it is not fair. So unfair that Frankie is finally naked in front of you - so gorgeous - long-limbed and tan, beautiful cock hard and heavy between his thick thighs - and you are unable to touch him.

You clench your jaw, sat back and stretched out like a cat at one end of the sofa, petting yourself as you watch him come towards you and lower himself onto the cushion next to you. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into the rhythm you found last night. It’s hypnotic. The movements, the sounds, the words. Watching Frankie is heady, intoxicating. It feels like you’re watching something happen outside of your own body, and you find yourself surprised as you move to kneel beside him, as you swing a leg over his legs so you’re straddling him. You’re so wet, so warm that you’re sure the night could pass for a summer’s day. Your skin is glimmering with sweat, same as Frankie’s. You search his eyes to find him staring back at you, just as fucked out, just as woozy. You moan, hot little pants dripping past your lips. He echoes you.

You sit back on his thighs, your fingers diving in and out of you as you watch his fist work furiously around his cock. Something warm and hot, greedy and possessive swells inside of you. He looks delicious like this, spread out in front of you, wanting and needy. His cock thick, swollen, dribbling. It twitches as you watch him, and you moan somewhere beyond your consciousness. Need, your body whispers. Need. You inch forwards, lifting your hips higher, higher, Frankie watching you like he’s somewhere outside his body. You take his hand from his cock, fingers slippery with his precum, and place it at your hip. You grind into your hand at the slick feeling, pulling your fingers out with a wet sound and hovering above him, gripping his cock so you can brush the swollen head of it against your clit. Frankie shudders, his body going slack, and you almost come from the sensation alone. You lower your hips just a little, bracing the mushroom of his tip at the tight ring of your entrance. 

You gonna break the rules, babygirl?

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, suddenly unsure.

You huff against him, everything too tight, too heady. Need.

‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ you whisper. ‘It’s okay, just a little bit. Just wanna feel you a little bit.’

‘But -’ he’s cut off by his own loud whine, unable to protest as you fit his head just inside your pussy. You throb around him, at the stimulation it brings. You clutch at his shoulder, head falling forwards at the stretch. Fuck, you could absolutely come like this. You need him deeper, need him to to fill you, but -

Oh, he is so good. 

His hands are like steel at your hips, keeping you in place. Frankie doesn’t want to disobey, doesn’t want to get in trouble. His grip speaks to that, his wide eyes, the sweat at his temple. But you can see on his face as you drip down him, the clutch of Joel’s control doesn’t hold nearly enough power when faced with what he truly wants.

You move back and forth a little, still with his tip just inside, moaning brokenly at the feel of it, and his eyelids flutter closed as something like a prayer brushes past his lips.

Frankie is good, but you are so, so bad. 

You drop your hips down further, and his fingers flex against your skin as he gasps, a high, keening noise reverberating from his chest.

‘Jesus Christ -’ he groans.

‘Fucking - hell, Frankie -’

He’s a lot. You can feel yourself adjusting as you slide down his length, your promise quickly forgotten. Greedy fuckin’ girl. But you can’t help yourself, brain short circuiting, body molten as you take him in inch by inch. It’s too much, all consuming. There’s no space for another thought, any more consideration as he fills you, as you take what you need. 

He whimpers as you bottom out, grinding against the curls at his base, breathing heavily.

‘So good,’ you whisper, ‘So good, you know that?’

Your head hangs forward against his shoulder as you gulp down air, as you feel yourself clench and leak around him, as he twitches inside you. After moments in almost silence, you lean back to look down at him.

His eyes are glassy, fucked out as he looks back at you.

You lift your hips, and the moan he lets out is pained. Your skin is on fire, and you want his hands everywhere.

‘Frankie, touch me.’

‘I can’t -’

‘You can,’ you grit, ‘You can, because I told you to.’

He moans again, and suddenly he’s everywhere. He knows where you need to be touched like you’ve done this before, his fingertips scorching and cooling as he strokes your thighs, your neck, as he grips your ass. Encouraged, you continue to move, slowly rocking up and down on his cock, breathing raggedly. Every noise that escapes the two of you seems to come without being registered, something primal, starved. Already, the coil is tightening, your body racing towards where it needs to be, and you know it will be intense, all-consuming to come around him, so thick inside of you. You lean further forwards, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your sternum, licking the skin before turning his head to take a nipple in his mouth - hot and wet and sucking, lathing it with his tongue.

‘Fuck,’ you hiss, moving faster, chasing, chasing what is so close. You grip the hair at the back of his head, tugging and keeping him close to your breast, keening against him.

‘Like that,’ you gasp, ‘Yeah, like that baby, god, so good, you’re so good for me, feel so good baby boy, you have no idea -’

You can feel yourself tighten and tighten, and Frankie holds you harder, force that feels so delicious you don’t even care about the hurt, not until it turns to iron, not until he rips his mouth away from you -

‘I’m gonna come -’ he whimpers, gripping your hips so tight you couldn’t move if you wanted to. ‘Please, baby, please - stop - I can’t - I’ll come -’

Hot desperation claws up your chest. You are so close, so close, but he looks so wildly at you that you stop trying to move, try to force back tears of frustration as you lean forwards to kiss him as sweetly as you can. Spit-slick and swollen, you pull back and rest your forehead to his. Try to think straight, tell him what he needs to hear.

‘No you won’t,’ you coo, taking his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. You put everything into your gaze, all your warmth, all your care for him, try to make him see how good this is. He stares up at you, eyes wide, dark. Panicked. Panicked at the thought of disappointing you. ‘You won’t, Frankie. It’s okay, you’re not gonna come.’ You try to shift a little so you can settle on your thighs to soothe him, but he clenches his eyes shut at your movement and whimpers louder, his mouth screwing up. 

‘Please don’t move,’ he whispers, ‘Just wait, - just -’

You lean forward and press a kiss to his hairline, feeling his tip move slowly to a shallower part of you. Fuck.

‘Relax, baby boy,’ you murmur, and he sucks in a breath. ‘Concentrate. I’m gonna sit down, and you are not going to come, okay?’

You wait, but Frankie still has his eyes screwed shut, nostrils flaring, fingers bruising against your skin. The tense feeling in your chest swells again. 

‘Frankie.’ You say sharply, and he jumps out of himself, eyes flashing open to yours. ‘I’m gonna sit back down. Take a deep breath.’

Frankie watches you as he breathes in through his nose, and you move at the sound of his airflow. His hands slacken at your hips, and he moans, low and long. 

‘That’s it,’ you say, sinking all the way down, writhing helplessly at his base. You’re already both so close. ‘Good boy. How are you doing?’

Frankie breathes shallowly as you adjust around his cock. His cheeks are red, hair sweaty. His lips are bitten, bleeding through one crack of skin, eyes almost entirely black. You scratch at the curls at the nape of his neck, massaging the tendons there.

‘Okay,’ he croaks. You try not to think of how he feels inside you. How full you feel, how stretched out. He’s thick and nestled in deep - not as far as Joel - but the ache you feel around his girth is delicious. Fuck, this was a bad idea. You should have just hopped off him, let him slide out so you could both catch your breath. And now, instead, you’re managing to edge the two of you even further. 

You know you can’t last long, and you know, from the desperate look on Frankie’s face, that he won’t either, no matter what you do. It feels crueller to stop now than it does to keep going, to watch him deny himself like this, to feel you deny yourself, too. You can feel your pussy tightening and leaking around him at the thought, the ache, the need that’s just there -

‘I have to move, baby -’

‘No -’ he chokes, ‘Please, hermosa, just a minute -’

‘I have to, Frankie, I - you feel too good, baby, I need to move. Wanna come, wanna see you come, too -’

Frankie’s iron grip returns to your hips as they lift of their own accord, and he hisses, head bowed, at the movement. You moan hoarsely.

‘It’s okay,’ you pant, gripping his chin in one hand, lifting his face to yours. ‘Listen to me, it’s okay. Focus now.’ You begin to move up and down him again, the slow drag of his cock tightening your grip on his face but loosening the hold you have on your body. You whimper, pussy fluttering around him. Frankie groans, breathlessly whispers your name, a pleasepleaseplease -

‘I know you can last as long as I need you to, baby,’ you whisper. ‘You’ve done it before, haven’t you?’ Frankie whines, his eyes rolling back, mouth falling slightly open. You can’t stop the moan that bubbles up your throat - him edging himself as he watched you the night before, eyes stuck on your fingers, your pulses, your wetness. You feel him throb inside you as he nods drunkenly. ‘That’s it, good boy. I know it feels good, but you can last a little longer. I know you can, Frankie. You’re doing so well.’

His fingers clutch at the swell of your hips, weak, sweaty, and you clench so hard around him that it’s a challenge to drag his cock through your walls. You breathe shallowly, slowing the pace again, and Frankie watches you through heavy lidded eyes. He licks his bottom lip.

‘Come,’ he breathes, a hand leaving your hip so he can thumb your clit. You hiss, hips stuttering so hard you sink all the way down onto him, grinding his tip into your womb. Frankie grits his teeth. ‘Come, hermosa,’ he tells you again, and you can feel the savage heat, pussy winding tighter and tighter, your body about to burst. Quietly, with a command he’s not had in his voice until now, Frankie says your name. Come. Now.

Your orgasm is blinding. You cease to exist in the corporeal world for an indeterminate time, coming to only when Frankie pulls you to his chest, his hips pressing up into you as you milk him. You’re achingly aware of the way his cock jumps inside of you as he pumps you full of cum, of the way his fingers grip and bruise your body, of the way you sink your teeth into his shoulder as you continue to throb around him.

‘Fuck.’ you bite out, resting your forehead against his as you pant into each other’s mouths. Minutes tick by, Frankie’s harsh grip turning to soft caresses, and you press chaste kisses to his nose, his forehead, his lips, before you rest your head against his collar bone. He takes a deep breath.

‘Baby,’ he starts. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, searching for what he’s about to say. You squeeze his middle gently. ‘Joel -’

‘Is my problem,’ you breathe, ‘I did this. It’s on me. He knew I’d break the rules.’

He swallows, nods.

‘Okay.’

You press a kiss to his neck, and he visibly relaxes.

‘It’s okay,’ you murmur. ‘No one’s gonna be mad at you. No one’s gonna be mad, full stop.’ He makes a noise of appreciation somewhere in his throat. 

You bite your lip and lean back, fixing him with a wicked grin.

‘Besides, this is all part of the foreplay.’

‘The foreplay?’ He whispers, brow furrowing.

You nod, humming at the feeling of his cum slipping from the warmth of your cunt.

‘You really thought he’d just come in your mouth?’

His eyes darken, a huff slipping from his kiss-bitten lips. He brings your hand from his neck to his mouth and bites down on the flesh of your palm. You giggle again.

‘Mm, you like that, baby boy? Like the idea of daddy playing with you, too?’

‘Stop.’ He groans, ‘You keep talking like that, and -’

‘There’ll be a round two?’ you tease. ‘Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,’ you smile, feeling him twitch inside you. ‘In fact,’ you continue, ‘That sounds like something a very good boy would do.’

‘Stop talking,’ he growls, ‘And take me upstairs. I remember something about you promising to let me taste you.’

The smile that grows across your lips is impossible to hide.

———

Pope wasn’t fucking around when he told you Frankie was good with his mouth.

He wakes you the next morning with more of what he gave you last night, his tongue warm and wet against your cunt, lapping and kissing and sucking until you’re sweating and writhing above him, hands fisted in his hair.

He likes that.

Likes biting marks into your thighs, making you moan and cry and come again and again. Likes when you’re a little mean, when you tell him what to do, when you hold him afterwards, when you let him fill you and fuck you until you’re both whimpering and covered in cum and slick.

The three days that follow pass in a blur of not touching and definitely touching. Frankie quickly becomes accustomed to waking wrapped up in your bed, your arm thrown over his side, and you quickly become accustomed to the sweet praises that drip from his lips as he slots himself inside you - how tight and sweet you are, how he can’t believe he fits in so well. How he can’t wait to share you, properly this time.

He bends you over the kitchen table after you’ve finished eating dinner, licking into you before splitting you open, and you take him in your mouth on your knees in the shower, making sure to remind him of how pretty he is, how good he feels in your mouth. You work him open with your fingers, your tongue, curling them inside him just to watch him struggle not to come so fast. It’s gorgeous. And when you’re too sore and swollen to have each other again, you find yourself cradled between his thighs, your back to his chest as he circles your clit gently with two fingers, kissing your neck and grinding himself against you as you moan, as you remind him how you need to get to work.

‘I know, baby,’ he murmurs, ‘Just wanna watch you come again.’

It’s feverish, it’s risky. You try to be a good liar, but you’re sure Joel knows. Knows you well enough, anyway, to guess that it would happen at some point. Which just means he must have been planning what he’d do to you after finding out for some time, too. You try to be careful as the week goes on - planning to wash your sheets, to not have Frankie in the house when Pope or Joel return. To just try and make it look like you succeeded, that you listened. That you were good.

You’re on your elbows and knees, body weak, pussy swollen and dripping as Frankie spears you from behind when the text comes. It’s Santi.

I’ll be home 2morrow. Look forward to seeing u 2.

One more time, Frankie gasps. Once more like this, and then you can wait. 

The two of you can wait until tomorrow.

———

You wait all day for Santi.

And you try to be good, you really do. But Frankie’s mouth is just so convincing.

He’s not allowed to bite, not allowed to leave any marks. He has permission to make you come, and then he has to clean you up again like nothing ever happened. You’re not going to touch him, and he’s not going to touch himself. He’ll have to save it for when Pope gets here. Which, as it’s turned out, is much later than he said. But not late enough to miss the show.

‘Am I interrupting?’

Frankie lurches away from between your thighs like he’s been scorched, backing up towards the end of the bed. He looks so surprised, so worried, that you snort at him, still so caught up in the throes of pleasure to not be too worried about Pope’s reappearance.

He looks good. A healthy glow to his skin, tight black top, his curls perfectly framing his face. His mouth is twisted into its most alluring smirk, and you watch it deepen at the flush of Frankie’s cheeks and the way you snake a hand between your legs.

‘Not at all, baby,’ you coo, and his eyes darken, following the path of your hand. It’s ingrained into you now, how Pope touched you last. The memory rushes through you, and you moan softly, the noises your hand is making against your wet folds so obscene. Still watching, he peels his belt from its loops, curling it in his fist.

He jerks his chin at Frankie.

‘You at least make her beg for it?’

You huff a small laugh, thinking back on how not thirty minutes ago Frankie had been on his knees in front of you, begging for a taste, begging to lick your cunt. 

Santi’s eyes shoot to you and the amusement on your face, and he steps forward with a smile.

‘Should have known,’ he says gently, through a smile. His palm cups your cheek, and you nestle into his touch, forgetting that whatever punishment Joel might have thought up, Santi might share. He traces your skin down your jaw, your neck, across your clavicles and down the arm closest to him. He holds your wrist, and pulls it up to his mouth where he can kiss your knuckles in greeting. ‘Hello, querida.’

You look back at him with wide, lust-blown eyes. ‘Hey, Santiago.’ 

He takes you in greedily, eyes scouring over your bare body, scrutinising so intensely that you almost feel self-conscious. 

‘What do we have here?’ he purrs, his spare hand reaching over you, thumbing your nipple. You whine and arch against his touch, fingers moving faster, and he tuts, shaking his head. ‘This will never do, cielo.’ He squeezes your breast firmly before running his fingers down the length of your arm, gripping your other wrist to bring your wet fingers to his mouth. He parts his lips and presses them in gently, and you mewl, hips bucking, as he works his tongue over the digits. His eyes are dark, boring into you, only distracted by the heavy breath Frankie takes from the other end of the mattress. He releases your fingers quickly.

‘No.’ he barks at the other man, and you swing your head to look at Frankie, a hand frozen mid-pull on his cock, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. ‘Did I tell you you could touch yourself?’

Frankie shakes his head frantically, hands moving to his sides.

‘Did I?’

‘No.’ he whispers, breathless, apologetic. Pope jerks his head again, over his shoulder. 

‘Off the bed.’

Frankie unfurls his limbs to stand at the bedside, cock heavy and bobbing against his stomach as Santi easily joins your wrists with one hand. It takes you too long to work out what he’s doing - his belt already curled around your hands before you make a noise of protest, silenced by a hard look from him. He twists the leather around your hands twice before tying them to the bedframe above you, giving a sharp pull to test the give. Your chest heaves, something sparking inside you as he cups your cheek gently.

‘Good?’

‘Yes, Santi.’ You murmur, taking your cue from how he admonished Frankie.

He steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking pleased.

‘Maybe that’ll help you keep your hands to yourself.’ He says, half-turning to Frankie.

‘Down.’

Frankie drops to his knees at the command, and you moan, thighs clenching, arms straining above your head, tight to your eyes. Santi says something to you, muffled, and you try to relax again to hear him, a quiet hm? the only sound you can make.

He cocks his head at you, lips curled.

‘Lube, querida,’ he says, ‘Where do you keep it?’

You inhale sharply, mind buzzing. 

‘U-under the bed.’

Pope drops to his knees beside you, rifling around until he finds and pulls out a green box, ripping off the lid. His face splits in a dangerous, thrilled grin.

‘Now, what have we got in here?’

You watch with bated breath as Pope rummages through the box, your chest heaving, arms straining against the belt again. He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed before turning his attention back to your toys. He brings your wand into your line of sight, and you squeeze your eyes closed as he presses the button, the room filling with its buzzing sound. 

You flinch when he brings the vibrator into contact with your skin, tracing your nipples. Your eyes fly open to find him and Frankie watching you intently. 

‘Had a lot of time to think about this while I was away,’ Santi says, almost to himself, ‘But I’ve got much better ideas now.’

Pope licks his lips as he dips the wand lower, teasing it around the soft flesh of your thighs before resting it against your clit.

You yelp at the contact, body juddering.

‘Please, Santi,’ you cry, ‘Please -’ but he shushes you gently, stroking your hair as he lays the wand between your thighs, nestled in to where the feeling is most intense, most overwhelming. 

‘It’s okay, baby,’ he coos, ‘Just need you to hold that there, be a good girl.’ 

You whimper brokenly up at him, and he pouts at you, teasingly.

‘Listen to me,’ he says, and you hold your breath, ‘That’s gonna stay right there, against your pretty little pussy, and you’re not gonna come, are you, querida?’

Your brain buffers, jaw clenching against the heat rising through you, and Santi frowns at you.

‘Are you?’

The air bursts from your lungs as you moan out a no, rewarded with a smile.

‘Good girl.’ he says, dipping to pick something up from the floor. Your panties from where Frankie had stripped you of them earlier.

He taps your chin.

‘Open,’ your mouth falls open of its own accord, and Santi stuffs the lace in. ‘Something for you to bite down on.’

You huff, brow furrowing in concentration, desire, as Pope steps away again and moves towards Frankie.

Frankie, still on his knees, watching open mouthed, cock jumping as he takes you in - stretched out, bound and desperate. His eyes leave yours to watch Santi begin to strip himself of his clothes, and you join him, groaning at the slow show he gives you both. His smooth, tan skin, the muscles that ripple beneath. He unbuttons his jeans before stilling, eyes falling on Frankie.

‘Come here,’ Santi says, and Frankie shuffles forward instantly. ‘Good boy. Now take me out, and show our girl what else you can do with that mouth.’

Your eyes roll back into your skull, and your wrists tug at Santi’s belt. From behind the fabric in your mouth, Pope can hear your muffled fuck. He smirks down at Frankie.

‘Before she comes, hermano.’

‘Pope,’ Frankie breathes, shocked through his haze of arousal, confused, warning.

‘What?’ Santi says, cupping his cheek gently. ‘You don’t think I checked with Joel? Didn’t ask what you got up to before he left? Don’t worry, baby, I did. He just wants to know she’s being taken care of. The sooner you put me in your mouth, the sooner we can do just that.’

Frankie swallows visibly, flustered, eyes flicking to you before he reaches out to tug Santi’s jeans and boxers down, taking the other man’s hard cock in his hand, squeezing and pumping gently. He takes care to thumb over the precum that gathers at his tip, using it to ease the movement. Pope breathes out slowly before touching Frankie’s bottom lip with his thumb, parting his mouth. He joins Frankie’s hand at his base and taps the head of his cock where his thumb had just been, and Frankie opens wider, allowing space for Pope to slide in. He takes lazy thrusts as you watch with wide eyes, hips canting against the toy, cunt pulsing, body on fire - acutely aware that Frankie has a gag reflex to rival your own. The thought makes you giggle, a kind of pride blooming in your chest. So easy. Frankie stares up at his best friend with glassy eyes, cock leaking and untouched between his legs, palms resting, unflexed, atop his thighs. 

‘He’s a good toy, isn’t he, cielo?’ Pope hums, slowing the rhythm of his thrusts. ‘So good at just - taking it. Barely any fight in you, is there, baby boy?’

With his mouth full of Santi’s cock, Frankie can barely shake his head. The corners of Pope’s lips curl.

‘No. I’ll bet she hardly even had to ask you. Just a little while longer watching her and you’d have begged to feel her milk you yourself. Isn’t that right, Fish?’

Frankie moans beneath him, his cock dribbling and straining. You want so badly to have it on your tongue, in your hand, inside your pussy, that you whine again, louder. Santi’s eyes slide to you, mouth wide in a smirk. 

‘Quit whining, querida. We’ll be with you in a moment.’

You groan again as Pope twists his fingers in Frankie’s hair, cooing at him. 

‘Yeah, seems that you both thought to tell us how’d you’d watched, hm? It’s a pity you couldn’t wait to touch, though. Could have made this so much easier for yourselves.’ You wriggle your hips a little more, finding just the right angle, the right pressure. Oh, it’s so good. Too good. Your noises come louder, faster, and though Frankie’s eyes don’t leave Santi, his body twitches, finely attuned now, to how you sound before you come. As though he’s read Frankie’s mind, Pope’s eyes snap back to you.

‘Not yet.’ He bites. 

You breathe jagged, harsh breaths through your nose, eyes scrunching shut against the coil that’s tightening in your core. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping through your folds, straight onto the sheets, and you try to think of anything but the sound of Santi’s cock moving in Frankie’s throat. What groceries you need to buy, the post you need to hand to your neighbour, what you’ll wear to meet Sarah. Joel. Joel. Fuck, no. That makes it even worse.

You moan again, dangerously close to the edge, cracking open your eyes to see Frankie bobbing up and down Santi’s length, drool escaping the corners of his mouth. How his cheeks hollow, how he sinks down to the wiry hairs at the bottom, eyes fixed on Santi’s face, unwavering, swallowing; moving back up to kiss the tip, the spit that trails from his lips to Pope’s head, how Pope rocks his hips forward, chasing the sensation. How Santi groans for him, tomalo, mírame, tu boca, tan bonito -

Your hips stutter, now trying to move away from the vibrator as Pope’s hand finally grips Frankie’s curls, pulling him in closer, holding him still as he fucks his throat, and you try to get out a please, please, trying to back yourself down, trying so hard even though it would be so easy -

Santi’s gaze finds you, lost to the feeling of the other man’s mouth, and he smiles kindly.

‘Casi ahí, bebita.’

You shake your head, eyes pleading, desperate, teary, and he seems to take pity on you. He uses his grip on Frankie’s curls to ease him off slowly, marvelling at the way his cock emerges, glistening; at the way Frankies mouth still hangs open for him to fill. 

‘Should we help her out, baby?’ He asks softy.

Frankie looks to you, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. Please, you try to moan again.

‘Yes.’ He says, voice hoarse.

Pope holds a hand out to him to help him off the floor, and Frankie stands on shaky legs. You try to will them to move faster, teetering on the edge, breath leaving you in great puffs, your body straining away from the toy, arms aching with the effort of trying to pull yourself away.

‘You ready to come, princesa?’ Santi murmurs.

You gurgle an mhm, sniffling as his hand moves low, hovering over the vibrator. Frankie bends, his cock angry and red still, to press a kiss to your temple.

‘Did so well,’ he whispers, ‘It’s okay, hermosa.’

Pope takes that as his cue to take hold of the wand.

Your back arches as he presses it down, harder against you, roving it back and forth for extra friction. You start to beg through your panties, knowing you can’t hold back anymore as your pussy turns traitor, beginning to flutter. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, and Santi smiles.

‘Now.’ he whispers.

Your body pulls impossibly tight, giving in to the rush of fire that has been simmering, your muscles clenching painfully as sound and sight evade you. You can feel your lungs working, feel the choked gasps leaving you, feel your arms pulling at Santi’s belt, but you are somewhere outside your body. A rush courses through your body, and you feel yourself gushing between your thighs.

When you come to, blinking, body slick with sweat and your cum seeping down your legs, Pope is untying your hands. You drop them above your head, and Frankie takes your wrists, massaging them soothingly with his thumbs. Santi presses a tender kiss to your stomach, moving the vibrator away as you shiver and jerk with overstimulation.

‘So good, bebita,’ he says, ‘Atta girl. Look how well you behaved there.’

He presses his fingers into your mouth to remove the lace, and your tongue works around your gums to alleviate the dryness the fabric left.

‘Can you move?’ He asks gently, and you nod weakly, cinching at the waist to haul yourself up. He brings his palms to your shoulder, rubbing your skin as Frankie sits behind you, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. ‘Well done, princesa.’

He brings you further forward, cradling you to his chest as he tells Frankie to lay back behind you, then angles your shoulder to turn and face him. Frankie looks fucked. His bare skin untouched, his cock dribbling precum, pooling at his stomach as you watch. His jaw is clenched like he’s trying to stop himself from begging, and you reach out to touch his thigh, trying to offer comfort in any way you can. He whimpers at the warmth of your skin.

‘Should we help him, querida?’ Pope whispers in your ear, your back still to his chest.

‘Yes.’ You answer, throat dry. He kisses your cheek, and you feel his smile.

‘Use your mouth, bonita.’

You move from Pope to settle yourself between Frankie’s legs on all fours, breathing kisses into his inner thighs before touching him, trailing a finger down his soft shaft. He hisses at the sensation, and you pause, meeting his eye. He swallows, nods.

‘Keep going.’ He rasps.

You pull yourself further up, mouthing at his underside, pressing kisses to his leaking tip before laving your tongue up and down his length. When his hips buck at the sensation, you move a palm to cup his balls and take him fully into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks, humming with the salty taste of him. His hands quickly find the side of your head, and you move back up towards his tip, licking into his slit to drink down more, playing with his frenulum in a way you know drives him insane. He moans, deep and needy, puffing out a soft fuck as you take him down to the base again, nuzzling the hair there, breathing him in. His cock jumps in your throat, and he looses a needy whine, pulling on your hair, but you don’t budge.

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, voice tight, and Santi speaks again from behind you.

‘Are you gonna last, hermano?’

Frankie looks up from watching you, unfocused, swaying his head. Pope makes an amused sound, and you feel his hands on you, positioning you, then the press of his tip against your slick hole.

‘Just a little longer, Fish. So much to do with you two.’

Santi glides inside of you easily, but it’s still enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You moan around Frankie’s sensitive dick, and he gasps, hands tightening in your hair.

‘Please -’ he warns, ‘Please -’ as Pope pulls out and thrusts back in again. You cry out, moving back up to Frankie’s tip, moving up and down the best you can as Pope dives in and out of your pussy, knocking you forward to take Frankie deeper with each thrust. ‘Santi -’ Frankie grits, and the other man chuckles behind you. 

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘Don’t want to spoil the fun.’ 

You whine and pout at the loss as he withdraws from you completely, turning your head to find that he’s stripped himself of his jeans and underwear. He winks at you before giving you a little push.

‘Ride it, querida.’

You push yourself up eagerly, coming to straddle Frankie’s hips before positioning him at your entrance. He looks up at you with blown, lust filled eyes, absolutely ruined. 

Despite the stretch, you sink down onto him without stopping. 

He feels so good. Just like the first time.

You writhe down at his base as his hands shoot out to grip your hips, his beautiful neck straining as his grits his teeth, his abs flexing as he attempts to hold you still. But it didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now.

You take yourself slowly up, smiling at the wet sound of the movement before sinking down again, feeling him stretch you out, feeling him in your stomach. It’s a delicious ache. You wonder what Joel would say right now, watching you take him so easily, watching how he fills you. Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm? You clench tight around Frankie at the thought, at the same time as a little ache settles in your chest. You miss him. You miss him, and you wonder what he’d be doing with his hands, his mouth, his cock -

‘Que cosita mas linda.'

Santi’s voice brings you back as you bounce on Frankie’s lap, and you lift your head to look at the younger man, his eyes heavy-lidded, lip nipped between his teeth.

‘She gonna make you come like this, Francisco?’

At the use of his full name, all of the sounds Frankie has been trying to hold back break free from him. All of his pretty little gasps and moans, his whimpers, the way he pants your name as he clings to you, eyes never leaving where you’re joined as he pleads -

‘Can I? Can I come?’ 

You clench around him again, the knot in your belly snapping at his words, your orgasm blinding as it comes at you sideways. Frankie moans loudly, repeating your name. You gasp, high little pants of uh- uh- as you jolt on him, pain mixing with pleasure as you call his name, Santi’s name, Joel’s name -

‘Up. Off.’

Santi presses a palm to your backside to move you off of Frankie’s length, even as you still clench around him. 

‘Fuck,’ Frankie heaves, ‘Fuck, please, no -’ 

‘Quiet.’ Santi bites at him, and Frankie whines, his cock jumping between your folds at his tone. You close your eyes. 

‘Let him,’ you plead, ‘Please, let him, Pope.’

You wanted him to come, he deserved to come. You move your lips up and down his length, and Frankie chokes a moan, his body moving higher up the bed as Santi moves behind you, but you can’t work out why behind the darkness of your eyelids. Your eyes are still closed, body still quaking as Santi leans forward to press a kiss to the centre of your spine. You arch your back against his mouth and he chases you, pressing another slightly higher, scraping his teeth against your skin.

‘Querida,’ he says. You can only moan in response. You know it’s not what he wants, but your brain is so fuzzy it can’t comprehend anything beyond it.

‘Turn around,’ he says, and you whimper, eyelids fluttering as you scratch gently at Frankie’s chest. The man beneath you writhes at the feeling, head rolling, eyes closing, fingers flexing bruisingly on your hips. ‘Turn. Around.’ Santi grits, this time taking Frankie’s hands so he can prise them off you, gripping your waist in an effort to turn your body. 

There’s no graceful way to do it, but Frankie handles your limbs with gentle hands as you swing your legs around him. 

When you face Pope, the sight that greets you is even better than you could have imagined. 

He eyes you hungrily, carnally, his brow dark and hair curled more than you've ever seen. But your eyes are taken to where his fingers are sunk knuckle-deep into Frankie, pumping them slowly. You moan as he digs them in deeper before curling them, repeating the beckoning motion until Frankie’s belly twitches. At the tells of his orgasm, Pope removes the digits slowly, deaf to Frankie’s desperate begging. You watch, mute, as Pope then takes the bottle of lube from beside him, pouring it onto his cock with a quiet moan, jacking himself before pressing his tip to Frankie’s hole. You feel the man below you tense slightly, and you stroke his thighs, fallen open on either side of Santi, with soothing fingers. When he relaxes, one of Pope’s hands meets yours on his flesh, the other helping to guide himself in. You watch as his length is swallowed, breathing shallow, listening to any noise the pair make. Frankie’s ragged groan, the way he chants Pope, Jesus, fuck, his bruising grip back on your hips, Pope’s answering growl as his eyes roll to the ceiling before fluttering shut. When he bottoms out, you watch as his stomach flexes, eyes then drifting lower, where you can only see the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the rest of it buried inside Frankie. You feel your face crease as your stomach turns molten.

Your hips drop to the swell of Frankie’s stomach, searching for any kind of friction. It should be impossible to be this constantly turned on. You move your hips as Pope drags his cock in and out of Frankie once, twice, murmuring how tight he is, how pretty, how good, before his eyes find yours.

‘You want her to sit on your face, pretty boy?’ Santiago purrs at the man over your shoulder.

‘Oh, fuck, please.’ Frankie moans.

Pope jerks his chin at you, sending you shuffling clumsily backwards, blinded by how badly you need to feel something, eyes fixed again to where he thrusts in and out of the younger man, angling your hips above Frankie’s face. You only see his mouth open, tongue already out to lick a fat stripe through your folds, before he pulls you roughly down, moaning against you.

‘Jesus - fuck -’ you hiss, trying to jerk away. It’s too much, too soon, but Frankie is too strong, too desperate to taste you. Your hand flies out Santi’s chest, scratching his skin before trying to find purchase higher up. You take his neck between your thumb and fingers as Frankie eats at you, his mouth harsh and hungry as it sucks and licks. Santi stutters out a groan as you tilt his head at you and squeeze.

‘Make him come,’ you murmur, ‘Make him come, baby, and then you can show me what else you wanna do with us.’

Santi grins and pants against you, his hips faltering for a moment as he leans his neck further into the cradle of your hand. He nods quickly, eyes glazing and soft. You smile back at him, squeezing again, pleased.

‘Frankie always said you were a good soldier, Santiago,’ you coo. ‘Should have known what you really needed was to be told what to do.’

‘Fuck you.’ He grins against your lips.

You answer it with a pathetic, needy little whine.

‘Mm, yes please, baby.’

Frankie takes the moment to suck particularly hard at your clit, and you feel your face crumple - one hand scrabbling at the younger man’s belly, the one at Santi’s neck now gripping the shoulder of the man fucking him. Frankie works diligently at your cunt, anchoring your hips to him as he devours you ravenously, letting the tip of his nose rest just inside your entrance as he flicks your bud with his tongue, swirling it in circles as you grind against him. 

This orgasm comes slow, like wading through treacle. It drips down your spine as you curve over Frankie, gasping and shuddering, so breathless that even Pope slows down. Frankie must feel you jolt and twitch above him, lapping up the last of your cum before he releases you from his grip. You lift your hips quickly, needing reprieve, aftershocks still knocking through you as you pant against Santi’s chest.

‘So good,’ you breathe, loud enough for Frankie to hear, ‘So good to me, baby boy, aren’t you?’

Pope presses a kiss to your hair as you work a fist around Frankie’s cock, squeezing his base. He jumps beneath you, a heady, keening noise wailing from his now unoccupied mouth, and you squeeze him tighter, pumping him once, twice, his shaft slick with your juices and his precum.

‘You’ll make him come.’ Pope warns, and you hum against him, forehead just above his sternum. You’re too lost in the way his cock looks as it disappears into Frankie.

The door opens so quietly you don’t hear it, but Santi does. How he keeps his wits about him despite what’s happening is beyond you. He stills his movements inside Frankie, and you feel his damp breath against your forehead, head dipping as he nudges your cheek with his jaw, turning your face towards it. 

‘Look who’s home.’ He murmurs into your ear. 

Your stomach swoops.

Joel stands in the doorway. His nose and brow rosy from working in the sun, your favourite flannel draped over his broad shoulders, a grin twisting his lips as he takes the scene in. His eyes dip from yours to your tits, to the way your body curls over Frankie’s. He takes in the man laying beneath you - his face shining with your cum, blissed and fucked out. The rise and fall of his tummy, the way his thighs are splayed to make room for Pope. The way Santi can’t help but flex inside him, earning a ragged groan from both of them, up the other man’s torso, his neck, to the dark eyes watching him back. It’s breathtaking. 

Joel cocks his head.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he drawls, ‘Y’all make such a pretty picture.’

You swallow loudly, letting your head fall back to Santi’s warm shoulder, panting before looking back at him. Something swirls in your gut, and you speak before even realising.

‘Come here,’ you whisper, voice cracking. ‘Come here and make it even prettier, daddy.’

The three of you watch as Joel steps towards you, letting the door fall shut behind him.

help with spanish translations from @/urmomsgnocchi's invaluable post here. if there are inaccuracies, please drop me a message <3

[notjustjavierpena]

Siggy’s Masterpost

Hi, and welcome to my blog! Currently requests are CLOSED.

In here, you will find all my content and links to my other masterposts. All content is possibly rated +18, so I don’t want minors on here. You have been plenty warned.

I write fem!self-insert, exploring different kinks, so make sure you read the tags to each piece of writing. No use of y/n, and reader's appearance as unspecified as possible for your pleasure.

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🔥 - smut 💓 - fluff 🌧️ - angst 🫂 - hurt/comfort 🚩 - triggering content

One-Shots

Cruel🔥

Diner🔥🚩

Swelter🔥

(Mid)summer Loving🔥💓

Series:

Daddy, I love him (Dad's best friend Joel)🔥💓🌧️🫂🚩

Dark Sugar (Sugar Daddy Joel)🔥🚩

The H-Series (Mean Joel)🔥🌧️🫂🚩

Summer Lovin’ (Hot DILF neighbor Joel)🔥💓🌧️🫂🚩

One-Shots

Are you staying? 🔥

Buzzing 🔥

Sucía, part 1 out of 2: Birthday Girl🔥

Sucía, part 2 out of 2: Hungover🔥

Series

Hubby and Wife🔥💓🌧️🫂🚩

Series

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia

One-Shots

Gum🔥💓

One-Shots

Five Minutes🔥

Late Night Feelings🔥

One-Shots

Practice Makes Perfect🔥