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thelightsandtheroses · 7 months ago

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5. touch me, i'm golden

Let's Get Lost Chapter 5 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place. However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster … Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, references to past drug addiction, references to alcohol, historic argument referenced, one passing reference to body insecurity, reader is unnamed with no physical desctipton but wears a necklace, Frankie and reader are parents, yearning? Word Count: 3600 Notes: Thank you for the lovely feedback so far - it's meant so much to me and I hope you enjoy this update. I am so excited to share this chapter with you! The chapter title is from Let's Get Lost by Bats for Lashes

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Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, oral (f!receiving), reader wears a dress, reader and Frankie are parents, mentions of alcohol, discussion of contraception, one moment of panic.

Frankie’s arms are around you, familiar and safe. It brings back memories of the mornings before, a montage of happy and fleeting moments you once thought would make up your forever.

You don’t feel bitter about it today.

You kissed him yesterday. The two of you kissed more accurately, because it was definitely mutual. Your plans at showing how mature, how evolved the two of you were that you could share a hotel room and co-parents and put Clara first feel on shakier ground than ever. A crush was one thing, laughable almost, but to kiss him?

You missed him though. The feel of his stubble against your skin, the way his arms encompass you right now, even just the heat of his skin.

You can pretend being single is fine, that sleeping in the middle of the bed is a bonus and a privilege, but you have truly missed Frankie. He was supposed to be your forever after all.

He moves, slowly shifting from his slumber. You hear him exhale and then a sleepy, “Mornin’. Is Clara up yet?”

You shake your head as you turn around as quietly as you can, letting Frankie rest a hand on your hip over the duvet.

“So we should talk.“

Frankie smiles. “Here it comes.” His tone doesn’t match his face, it’s forced and there’s a wistful and bitter edge to it.

”Here what comes?”

“It was a mistake, it’s going to wreck everything, you don’t feel that way anymore.” He shrugs sadly. “It’s okay.”

“Frankie.��

“I mean it, it’s okay. On vacation … we’re on vacation, right? Everything goes topsy turvy on vacation.”

“I - don’t, Frankie, I don’t think it was a mistake.” Or at least you didn’t.

The pause feels like forever.

“You don’t?”

You shake your head, nervously pulling the duvet closer to you. Please don’t say it was a mistake, you think, because what could be worse than falling for your ex at your best friend's wedding and then it not even being reciprocated. The two of you will have to go back to Lia and Ben ferrying Clara between homes, it will be a disaster.

“I -” Frankie exhales, “Fuck.”

“Fuck?”

“I - I don’t know how to …. Look, I don’t think it’s a mistake, I don’t. And I don’t because I’ve never stopped feeling like it’s you, that you and me ... I never stopped. I love you and I think I always will.”

“Frankie,” There’s a lump in your throat and you’re not sure what to say. Frankie’s always struggled with words, his love language is action, physicality.

He showed his love to you a hundred ways when you were together, before the addiction. You would characterise his love as thoughtful gestures, the featherlight touches if you passed him that sent flutters to your stomach, the way he’d bring home your favourite meal if you had a rough day. That might not sound a lot, but for several years you didn’t that Frankie didn’t like that dish at all, that it was one of his least favourite meals or cuisines. He would get it for you though - if he thought it would make you smile.

Words weren’t his forte, he was driven by action, by physical gestures.

“I don’t expect you to be the same,” Frankie adds, “The way I was, the way things were, I know I let you and Clara down so much and I was a mess.” He’s speaking in a low voice but you hear the crack of emotion in his voice when he mentions Clara.

“You were hurting.”

“I hurt a lot of people doing that though. I missed so much with Clara,” he says sadly.

“She only knows you’re her dad who she adores and who, let’s be honest, is wrapped around her little finger. How many times have I picked you up with hair clips in your hair?”

“A few. I’m steeling myself for when she discovers nail varnish.”

“We have a few years before then, I hope.” You reach for Frankie’s arm and squeeze his hand. “You need to stop punishing yourself for the past, please, Frankie.”

“I - yeah.”

“Good.”

“So neither of us think it was a mistake, huh?” he asks after a moment, a wry grin spreading on his face.

“Mummy? Daddy?” Clara calls.

This holiday, your child has clearly developed an uncanny ability to join a conversation at the worst time. You’re not sure where she’s learnt this skill from, or if all toddlers have this, but it’s starting to seem like a pattern.

“Hey, good morning, Clara,” Frankie says, rousing himself from the bed. “What are we thinking we’ll go for at breakfast today? Pancakes? Waffles?”

He looks back at you, a thousand unspoken words in his eyes as he winks - a promise for later.

“It’s me,” Frankie calls as you hear the room door close behind you. You left Frankie and Clara at breakfast a little earlier, partly to escape the tension between you and Frankie that you were sure everyone else could see.

“I’m in the bathroom, won’t be long. I’m decent though.”

You turn around to see Frankie smirking, one arm against the door jamb of the bathroom. He’s clearly been watching you neatening things in the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything but just raises an eyebrow.

He may have already clocked the made bed, you think.

“Well, I don’t want housekeeping to think we’re messy,” you say, holding your hands up defensively. You don’t know why it matters you, but you really don’t want to be judged by the housekeeping, to be one of those awkward tourist families. You’re used to cleaning up a room now, it’s just good manners surely?

“You haven’t changed,” he says with affection.

You’re not sure what to say to that, how to respond. You have changed, you know you have. You feel sharper around the edges than before, cynical and most of all tired. You’re scared about that.

Frankie’s confession fills is reverberating in your mind because what if thinks you’re the same person, or has this idealised version of you on a pedestal? You’ll disappoint him surely.

He’s loved you all this time, through everything. Surely that means something?

“Where’s Clara?” you ask, looking around Frankie to see if your daughter is hiding behind him.

“Kids’ club, they’re doing crafts and apparently she absolutely couldn’t miss it,” Frankie says softly. ”Same crafts she can do at home, but -”

You smile. Clara’s already excitedly told the two of you about the friends she’s made in the club, about the fun she has there. Part of you wants her with you all the time to make memories, so you know you’re giving her the very best time you can, but you’re so grateful for the chance to unwind too, to remember who you are beyond Clara’s parent.

“So, it’s just you and me?”

“It’s just you and me until the boat trip,” he replies in a low voice, standing closer to you and framing his arms around you.

“Whatever will we do?”

“No idea, you said something about a book, right? You had a few to read this vacation - are you done with that?”

Frankie kisses you, it’s lazy and soft and oh so addictive and you immediately return the gesture, enjoying the feel of his skin, the heat of his lips against yours.

“Hmm, yeah, definitely could do with some reading time,” you tease, “but uh, maybe later.“

“Thank god,” he says, deepening the kiss and guiding you against the sink. “I’ve been thinking about this since yesterday. Haven’t been able to get you off my mind.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh huh,” Frankie says, kissing the edge of jaw. “Been thinking about what I’d do if this … if this happened. If I got the opportunity to do this again.”

“What were you thinking about doing?” you ask, looking up at his deep brown eyes that are full of mischief.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to find out.”

“Colour me intrigued.”

Frankie kisses you, filled with confidence and you let him steer you up onto the counter, instinctively wrapping your legs against him and trying to bring him closer to you. Your hands linger on the edge of his T-shirt and you pull at the hem to bring it over his head.

You’ve been thinking about this since the kiss. Looking at Frankie now with his shirt off and mussed up curls, all you want is him. You have no idea what you want to do first, there’s part of you that just wants to touch him, to validate he’s here and real, and yours for the moment. It’s been so long. Even this week, this realisation at the start feels like an age ago, like you’ve been anticipating him for years.

Frankie’s hands are on your legs, moving up and underneath your summer dress as he kisses the sensitive spot behind your ear. He traces circles on your inner thigh as he pulls away from his kiss.

“Hey,” you start but he just winks.

That wink really shouldn’t make you feel quite as aroused it does. That wink is dangerous. Very dangerous.

Frankie moves his kisses further down, his hands pushing your dress further up your thigh before, your underwear down your legs and you kick them off.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers, awe in his voice.

There’s something about being with Frankie that you’ve never experienced with other men. He has this way of making you feel safe and seen and like there is nothing more he wants than to be with you. It’s addictive and the feeling storms through your mind in a rush.

He kisses the inside of your knee, tracing light kisses up your leg, spreading your legs with his hand as he moves towards your centre.

“Just look at you,” he utters, awe in his voice before he puts his mouth on you.

You reach for his hair, fingers knotted around the curls at the nape of his neck and try not to pull as he swipes up your centre to your clitoris, one hand on your right hip and the other holding your scrunched up dress away.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he says before diverting his attention back to his ministrations. Every touch, every movement Frankie makes is masterful. He’s an expert at building you up, at listening and reacting to every part of your body, to bring you to the very edge. “Missed you.”

You feel like there’s a thousand things Frankie’s trying to tell you through this moment, all those unspoken words and sentiments. Every part of you is reacting, your mind is becoming wonderfully clear, focused only on him, on the way he makes you feel.

The heat builds in your stomach, every swipe or suck causing a new ripple of delight. You try and shift, let your body move in react, your hips bucking at one point as Frankie masterfully maintains his hold on you.

You can feel the pressure building, are barely conscious of the sounds you’re making as your back arches, as you shut your eyes and delight in everything Frankie is doing.

“C’mon, baby, you’re nearly there,” he encourages. “That’s it.”

You feel the way your legs are shaking, the way each muscle is tensing and preparing for that oh so needed release.

You say his name, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie.

The taste of you on his lips, both of your breathing is ragged and you wrap your arms around him, aiming to move but he keeps you in place.

“Steady,” he says gently.

“What about you?”

“Soon, soon, baby. It’s not a game, we got time.”

Have you? Is there time? Part of you wants to protest, to say no, you have to fit in as much time together as possible now because at some point you’ll need to go home. The two of you are in limbo, in the vacation idyll and how, how does this continue in Florida? Would it? Would he want to? What does it all mean?

“Honey, I can see your brain working overtime,” he says softly.

“I just -”

“We don’t need to overthink it,” he replies, but you notice the way he’s stiffened slightly and he’s taken a step backwards.

“I -” you pause, unsure of what to say but wanting to fill the pause, stop the silence. “I’m sorry, it’s a lot.”

“That’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassures you.

It’s this that abates the anxiety, finally clearing the buzzing in your brain. Frankie’s gentle reassurance washes over you like a palm The lack of assumptions, the way this man makes you feel safe. He doesn’t even feel real to you right now. As he moves away you pull him closer, entwining your body with his.

“Frankie, I need you,” you say.

He looks at you with clear heat in his eyes. “I - what?”

You smile at him, drawing him closer. “Frankie, please will you take me to bed?”

He smirks. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

The sudden smugness in his voice makes you giggle but then his lips are on you again.

The two of you are touching the whole time you move from the bathroom to the bed. Hands. Lips. You don’t want to be away from him, to break this moment between the two of you.

Your dress is off, his shorts discarded to the floor and boxers kicked somewhere in the room.

He guides you to the mattress, kissing your lips and then the right and left side of your jaw. The reverent way he looks at you makes you wonder if he’s trying to commit every part of you, of this moment, to his memory.

You reach up and touch his jaw. His eyes are heavy with desire, you can feel the coarse stubble on his jawline, the familiarity of his body on you. He smells different and the same at once. It’s all mixed up in coconut scented sunscreen, the same cologne he used to wear on date nights. The one you loved. He looks healthy again, he looks like the Frankie you fell in love with.

He kisses you. “Are you sure you want to -” he begins.

“Absolutely. Do you?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking down to draw your attention to his erection. “I already said I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

“Even when it was bad? Back when you hated me?”

“Even then. And hate’s a strong word.” He pauses. “I just want to - five minutes ago you seemed worried and I don’t want that. We can slow this down, baby, we’ve got time. Or, we don’t have to -”

“I mean it too. I want this. I want you.”

You want to bottle up the smile Frankie wears in response. It would be the purest serotonin, happiness in a bottle.

“I - I’m on the pill still if you don’t have a condom.”

“Good, good. I don’t actually, I can get them though. But I’ve been tested and I’m clean.”

“That’s good, that’s fine. Want you, want to feel you.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” he says, groaning slightly which sends an immediate thrill down your body.

Part of you still feels awkward about these conversations but there’s something about the way Frankie’s looking at you, the heat pooling in your body, the knowledge of just how much your body wants Frankie right now. How much you want him.

He guides himself into you. It feels familiar and yet new. This was not the problem with you and Frankie; your bodies connected and every time you were with him, it felt so real, so right. You kiss. entwining fingers together as he moves, as both of you raggedly breathe. He groans into your mouth as he kisses you and you tighten your arms around him and the two of settle into a rhythm.

“You’re incredible,” he says.

“So are you,” you say, “so are you.”

You can feel the sensation rising, a crescendo of feeling and then you are there. A tangle of each other’s names, of gasping breaths and sweat coated limbs.

In the aftermath, you both lie there. A woozy peaceful sensation has filled your body and mind. You're almost afraid to voice your thought, that being with Frankie again just then was better than you had imagined.

“Is it wrong I want to say we’ve still got it?” Frankie asks after a minute.

You laugh. “No, no, not at all. Was thinking something similar. That was - that was something.”

“Shit, I don’t think I’m going to be able to think for five more minutes.”

“Just five? Clearly we need more practice.”

“Well, I could sign up for that,” Frankie says.

“We need to get ready for the catamaran trip.”

“Nah, we don’t. I’ve been on boats before. We can stay right here.”

“Benny and Lia get married tomorrow, baby. We need to -” You break off.

“What is it?” Frankie props himself on an elbow and looks at you carefully.

“We can’t ruin their wedding.”

“What do you mean?”

“After Will’s -”

“That’s not going to happen,” he says, soothing and calm.

“I can’t wreck another -”

“You didn’t. We didn’t. They’re happy, it’s okay. It was, it was bad, yes, but -” Frankie swallows. “I’m sober now.”

“I know. I know.”

“We won’t ruin it.”

“We can’t take away from their day, or … any of it.” What if they find out and ask questions? You have no idea what comes next with Frankie, if this feeling is just a vacation escape or if it’s, as you suspect. real. What you do on vacation isn’t real life. A holiday romance is just that, it doesn’t survive the real world.

You can’t lead everyone through another of yours and Frankie’s heartbreaks. You don’t think you can go through it again.

The calm wash of your pleasures has been replaced with sharp panic. A bucket of water thrown over your delusions.

You love Frankie, but this is wrong. You can’t be together right now. You cannot ruin Benny and Lia’s wedding; you cannot ruin the peace between you and Frankie. What if it doesn’t work again, what if this time it’s worse? What about Clara?

You thought it would be worth it to be with him, but is the cost too high?

“So, you want us to not talk about this with the others right now?” Frankie asks, “Seems fine.”

“Santi’s been glaring at me for days.”

“Santi’s just worried about me,” Frankie admits, “He knows, he knows how I feel. How I still feel. He was worried about me on this break. Thought I was putting myself through it unnecessarily.”

“Were you?”

“We’re here now.”

“But if we weren’t?”

“We are though,” he says simply.

“What if it’s not enough? I love you, Frankie, I do. What if that’s not enough though? I can’t, we can’t mess up everything again. Clara’s not a baby now, she could remember. I don’t want that for her.”

“I know this is a lot.”

“I’m scared, Frankie,” you admit, “I don’t know what this all means for us or -”

He reaches and clasping your hand in his. “Don’t overthink it. We can just -”

“What? We can fuck on vacation and pretend it didn’t happen? You can tell me you still love me and think that doesn’t change anything? That I can say that back to you too? Then we go home in a couple of days and pretend nothing happened? It just didn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. if it’s too much though, if we can’t - we have to figure out how to move past that then and I can. I don’t want this to upset you, or me, or Clara, or fucking anyone.”

“I think we need some space to think.”

Frankie whispers your name.

“It’s just too much right now,” you say, voice thick with tears. “I love you, Frankie.”

“And I think we’ve established, I’m the same. Is that not enough?”

“We should get ready. That trip’s booked soon, isn’t it? We need to get Clara too.”

“Please, can we just talk about this some more?”

You make it to the bathroom before you start crying.

The bathroom makes it worse. It’s a shrine to your previous activities.

You’ll never be able brush your teeth amongst these marble counters and take in the luxury of a heated mirror without thinking of the way he methodically and precisely took you apart on the counter with his mouth and the way he left you saying his name like it was some sort of divine incantation because there were no other words left in your mind.

You want this still, you want him. You want to live in those moments in the bathroom and bedroom before your panic, you want to restart everything and pretend the break-up never happened.

It did though. There’s Clara too and she surely deserves so much more than this. She needs stability and calm parents who are drama free and don’t cause her problems through their own relationship drama.

You love each other though. Is Frankie right, is that enough?

Love didn’t seem to be enough before. It only made the wound wider and pain sharper. You don't want that heartbreak again, you don't want it for Frankie either.

You want love to be enough though. You don’t just want Frankie for this time you’re on vacation. You want Frankie and you back home in Florida. You want regular days with him too. You want coffee before work and organising chores, going to the grocery store even though you hate grocery shopping.

Love - you want to bask in his love and hope he can do the same with you.

You take a deep breath and finish straightening up.

“You’ve got this,” you say. You just wish you knew what this was.

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