[ he won't admit as to whether or not it's intended to be a private competition with himself; he's no idea what wynonna might have imagined, or how close to realistic the dream even happened to be in the first place, but it goes without saying that, considering she'd imagined him doing this to some extent, he doesn't want to disappoint her. but he doesn't attempt to overthink it either, too consumed with that mutual desire to really even be allowed to let his thoughts float elsewhere.
she tastes of salt and sweat, sex and slickness, and when he rolls his tongue along that soft skin, it's become as much for him as it is for her, encouraged by the way she shifts her fingers into his head to urge him on, the tugs that come from it exhilarating with those soft stings it provides, knowing he'd only be aroused further if she tightened her fingers further around the strands.
there's no other words from him now that he's found a steady rhythm there against her, but it doesn't cease the noises that arise, soft groans vibrating against her when he parts his lips over that swollen button to suck gently, wanting to test where her voice travels, how she chooses to direct him, or if her body merely tenses in response to what he does to her.
it's all experimental, even if he has his experiences to know those spots that rouse a little more confidently; even though there'd be uncertainty about this, the longer he spends tasting her, touching her, the more likely it seems of this being more than these hours, that what he does to her now and what he learns from it, might even come into play during a later experience. not that he occupies much of his head with thinking of later, more distracted with the now. even if it doesn't go beyond this, beyond this bed, he'll make use of the minutes anyway, to make it worthwhile for all that she had sought out from a mere dream, to give her a reality that does more with a solid tongue and succulent lips, offering something that should be more satisfying than a fantasy. ]
[ it might be too early to tell, but she's already convinced that this is panning out to be way, way better than anything her imagination could have come up with. she wouldn't have been able to conjure his sounds from memory, know those noises of enjoyment he makes when he tastes her, doesn't rush through anything but takes his time exploring like he's trying to figure out what she likes. she's not used to that, is far more accustomed to hastening through anything resembling foreplay in favor of the main event. and maybe she'd fallen prey to that their real first time, only kisses and briefly wandering mouths to build up their mutual need, but that isn't what's happening now.
she tries to maintain slow and even breaths, but he's too experimental, too set on learning her, and she realizes that she's not going to be able to rest for as long as he's down there, hips twitching underneath everything from the light suction of his lips to firmer drags from his tongue until she's forced to grip a little harder at his hair and hope she's not hurting him while the other finds purchase in the sheets beneath her, flexing and relaxing her fingers whenever he stumbles across a more sensitive spot.
some of that slickness is theirs, but more and more it's being replaced by arousal that's hers and hers alone under the ministrations of his mouth, the groans that create an added vibration over tender flesh, and when she tugs at his hair now it's not to steer him in any one direction but to clue him into the fact that what he's doing is good, so good.
the problem with finally getting to have this, him, the two of them together in her bed, figuring each other out, is that when it's all over she's going to feel the loss of it. maybe it would have been better not knowing, because now that she knows how he can make her feel she won't be ready to relinquish it, to surrender it, to backtrack and pretend this isn't what they are. what she wants them to be. even if she might not be able to say it out loud yet. ]
[ the first time might have relied more on that urgency, the gradual build up that had been months in the making, silent interest pouring into that eventual realization that the physical attraction wasn’t something to be ignored. it was inevitably for there to be that much piled heat, stirred together by their finally mutual kisses, not spurred on by pollen or party circumstances — just them relying on instincts under the soft light of the living room.
but there’s no rush here, not as his tongue tracks the corners of her folds to find those places where the fierce tug of her gripping fingers clues him in on that pooling arousal, marking those favorable spots with spit, soon lost in the mixture of her slickness, now more consistent to taste than what was once both of them together. the more he takes his time, the more he begins to memorize the signals of what she likes, those hardly subtle jolts of her hips that seeks out more of his experimental press, massaging those areas with the firm tip of wet muscle.
soon, though, he’ll seek out the point of entry, fingers dipping in to spread her open until he can penetrate gently with his tongue, stroking her walls with that limited reach, but moaning low to amplify the sensations and relay his own satisfaction with the position.
there’s enough here that he doesn’t have to think about what comes after; she’s an overwhelming and addictive taste on his tongue, a soothing rhythm of moans at his ears, and he’ll take everything she offers without taking a single dose of it for granted. he’s led her to her release once, and he’ll aim to take her there again, not opposed to the potential of yet another after that if it means letting these very early morning hours last longer than they should. ]
[ there hadn't even been anything within that first time that necessarily indicated another round; she'd spent those moments downstairs with him not wanting to consider too much of the future or dwell on the past they'd accumulated together but living each second, those initiating kisses and everything that had followed. and now they're up here, and she honestly can't propel her thoughts ahead to an afterward, too wrapped up in it, in the growing rhythm of his mouth against her and her hips responding in kind, gentle yet eager.
there's no rush, even while she occasionally devolves into writhing underneath him, some of those probing strokes turning into teases that she figures he may not completely intend on delivering but doesn't withdraw when she offers a more pleading whimper, or a stronger clutching of fingers in his hair, instead giving her more — and the tension within her starts to spike. ]
Frank, shit. [ it's nothing compared to when his tongue dips into her, when he utters those soft noises into her skin, half-muffled by where he is but palpably felt as it ripples across her body and makes her hips lift again, knowing he'll only be able to get so far but unable to completely refrain. it's now her need that drips against his mouth, makes her fight not to squeeze her thighs together.
she's not sure if she should be surprised that she's already close, or impressed that he's brought her to near-bursting so soon, but it promises to be no less intense than the first time and she can feel the heat pull together, form a taut sphere within her. she tugs at his hair, tries to signal she's close but can't eke out anything beyond a louder moan before she finally unravels into a mess of quivering limbs. ]
[ she rolls up her hips, urging his mouth more firmly against her; it won’t drag his tongue inside of her any further than he can naturally reach and while there’s further he can go if he plunged in his fingers (or something else altogether), he won’t sacrifice this method of tasting her, especially for when she reaches that incline of another release and she’s left dripping on his lips. not that he doubts his ability to get her there on mere use of his mouth alone, already snatching her conveyed hints.
he groans against her with that more obvious tug, a sting in his scalp that prompts him to rub a little harder at those slick walls, now lost in the consuming presence of her arousal heavy on his mouth.
he’s growing hard again, a heavy weight now hanging between his thighs where his knees remain spread on the mattress. while he knew there was plenty of a chance of getting turned on by the mere act of tasting her like this, he hadn’t anticipated that extent of an erection, thought there was a lot to be said about the exhilaration stemming from these new experiences with her. still, even if the sounds at his throat might signal those heightening levels of interest, there’s no intention on his mind besides what he has in front of him now, especially if she’s peaking there so soon.
eventually he caves when his arm curves around her thigh, hand dipping to that center to press his thumb on that sensitive bud, fast motions swirling the pad to offer quick rubs, with spread slickness allowing for an easy slide. paired with his thrusting tongue, he won’t stop until she forces him to, making sure she’s consumed by all the sensations he can provide at once. ]
[ she's there, hard and all at once, climax hitting her almost intensely enough to bowl her over as she curves, arches, loses herself under the capabilities of his mouth and that single press of a finger, the added stimulation as she reaches her very peak stealing a cry from her throat as she jerks once, and then again, and then finally goes still, muscles lax against the mattress. ]
Je-sus Christ. [ her heartbeat is a rush in her ears, that thrumming pulse enough to daze her for those first few seconds that she's merely lying there before a smile finally hits her, lips peeling apart to flash him the extent of her pearly whites as she brings a hand to her forehead, pushes out a weak chuckle. parts of her are still twitching, those residual spasms causing her to clench involuntarily around nothing, abs fluttering until those lingering aftershocks finally subside.
and when she tips her head to the side to glance down the length of her own body, she spots him there, half-visible from that vantage point, but she doesn't quite perceive the mess she's left behind on him until he eases up and she discovers it, that patch of hair beneath his chin showing entirely obvious signs of what he's just been doing. she struggles to push herself up into sitting and stretches out a hand toward him, closing fingers around the strength of one of his forearms. ]
Sorry, I might've — [ she gestures to her own face, in the vicinity of the affected area, and she can't seem to ditch the silly-stupid grin on her mouth, her cheeks hurting from how much she's attempting to suppress it at the sight of him wearing her like that. ]
[ as soon as he feels those jolts of her body bucking upward, he keeps her mostly steady with a free hand to her hip, thumb following through with its persistent attendance, only loosening it when he senses that peak of her sensitivity relayed by her swaying hips.
but it’s mostly from a firm mouth that aids her in riding through it, that tongue never quite leaving its station against her, where he can taste all that’s coaxed from her in that single release, running it over his lips and spreading against his chin even as his tongue aims to clean her in lasting swipes. and he takes her all in, right up until she’s powering down, the weight of her slumping onto the bed and loosening from their tight press to his face.
when he finally peers up, it’s as she angles to steal a glance in his direction. and while he’d anticipated some level of a reaction from her, the beaming smile that spreads quite obviously across her face isn’t quite the one he’d have likely predicted. and it’s only when she gestures that he takes the hint, confusion in the tilt of his brows shifting when he brings his fingers into the hair at his chin, the contact noting him quick of its stickiness. ]
Well, shit. [ it’s spoken so matter of fact, and soon follows with a tilted grin of his own, almost embarrassed if he weren’t so entertained by her more obvious amusement. Pursing his lips (but not before swiping a steady lick across them), he gives a soft shrug where he’s still bent over her thighs. ] I don’t know. Think it’s a pretty good look.
[ the entire lower half of her body is tingling even after those last few waves course through her, rippling down the length of her spine and causing her hips to jump a couple times in reflex, enough to make her laugh as those feel-good pheromones rush into her system and leave her feeling damn giddy. she doesn't even want to crane her head to look over at the clock on her nightstand right now; even if she does, she's only going to be surprised at how awake and alert she feels now, a bright-eyed glance up at his face as he finally figures out what's amusing her so much. ]
You think? So you're gonna show up at the diner tomorrow rocking that accessory? [ more like today, she thinks to herself, whenever that happens to be; she dimly realizes she's been keeping him from being there now but she can't find much reason to feel too bad about it unless he starts getting a dozen angry texts about why the lights aren't on.
selfish, that's what she feels, but there's no guilt in that emotion and she scoots forward carefully, mindful of the sensitivity in her hips, her thighs until she can situate herself directly beneath him, lifting her hand to clutch fingers around his chin (and in the midst of that sticky beard). ]
I don't know. I think I could get used to it. [ and maybe she's considered the implications of that remark, or maybe she hasn't given it a second thought, but she closes the distance to kiss him either way right after it, heedless of any shine that may rub off on her face in the process. ]
It’s fine. No one pays attention to the man behind the counter. [ it’s “behind the curtain”, but he isn’t being picky on expressions now. it doesn’t even stun him to hear of that reminder of the diner itself and how much he probably be over there right now opening it back up soon. from his angle, he can catch that glance to the clock, still not quite five but slowly reaching there; as long as he gets back for six, he should be alright, yet somehow the rush to get himself cleaned up for it doesn’t reach him.
instead, he’s still engaged in watching her, listening to the soft comments that spell her casual, eased tone, the one that signals that he’s clearly got her on her good side now, instead of the frantic flustered that had stormed into his apartment when he’d undergone yogi bear syndrome.
he sits back on his knees, straightening his upper body when she shifts forward to be level with her, leaning in when she tucks her fingers amongst the mess of his beard.
could get used to it, he repeats in his head, and though it might simply be an off-hand unintended comment, he isn’t opposed to that idea, to this. having only literally gotten a taste of it, of the way they’re learning each other, even in more intimate corners. even the simple gesture of kissing him, when he’s coated with her on his tongue, the same way in which he’d lapped up remnants of himself between her thighs — there’s something almost trusting in that, arousing as well, and he doesn’t draw back from kissing her in return, licking her lips and parting his own for her to taste herself on him. ]
You say that now. [ now, mere hours from when he needs to be back there if her suspicions are right, but she won't ruin the temporary bubble they've constructed for themselves out of all this closeness by stealing a look at the clock now, content to remain in her own ignorance about it. the longer she avoids it, the longer she can keep fooling herself into thinking that his leaving isn't as close as it really is. it's all in line with that selfishness, though, not wanting to deny herself this now that she's got it.
and she shrugs up to him, even if she'd be more than happy to just remain lounging across the bed until her limbs regain more sensation — but she can't refrain from stealing another kiss, messy as it is, uninhibited by the taste of herself on his lips, his tongue. if anything, it makes her melt into him more, humming her appreciation for his earlier work into his mouth as it deepens naturally with lips that part for his tongue. but even that kiss isn't rushed through, closer to savored, before she finally stretches out across the bed and studies him from that angle. ]
I might be checking him out a little next time I'm in there. [ not that he hadn't garnered her attention before, their dynamic reaching a stage where she'd felt comfortable plopping herself into his booth, across from him, without even checking to see if he wanted the company, inhabiting his space for the span of a few cups of coffee and maybe a plate of her own eggs and bacon if he'd polished off most of his own before her arrival. but he's a working man now, spending most of his time behind that counter or towards the grill, so maybe she'll have to start rethinking her seating arrangement for the foreseeable future.
her smile is faint, but no less fond as she glances up at him, on his knees over her, and then it's as if her gaze descends without her initially planning on it — but she finds him hard and ready and it doesn't take her long to deduce when that must have happened, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. ] You want more?
[ he'll allow these moments to extend beyond however long they're meant to; even if he tries to have a general idea of the time, it isn't as consciously tracked in his mind as if possibly should be, distracted enough with what's presented for him across the mattress as she lays there beneath him, briefly rising up in order to find his mouth with enough fervor to keep him occupied for the hours to come if she persists like this. ]
Careful with that. You don't wanna be distracting him too much. [ even with the teases, it still doesn't clarify how they might change their behaviors when they actually do eventually return to their usual routine. whether awkwardness in realization after the fact might stumble the way they speak to one another in public conversation, or if they can still engage in that standard banter with just a bit more awareness now held on every word. whatever the route, it's inevitable that what they have is certainly different, and he won't be able to play pretend regarding that fact, even if worry subconsciously tugs at his mind over getting this close.
it won't be easy to miss the blatant view between his legs now, especially once she's shuffled her body down closer to him, and he can follow her eyes when they gaze low, a subtle flush on his cheeks when she draws attention to it. ]
Maybe. [ he says with his own brand of teasing, even if he's become the focus in a mere shift. but he leans down, hovering over her once more so that mouths align, lips grazing gently in a partial kiss. ] I do know I want you. [ it isn't meant to mean anything beyond where they are, the heat between them that resides in this bed; he won't think about how it might signify anything else, anything once they've said their heads on straight again, but it doesn't seem to matter much to him right now. ]
[ they are on a clock, much as she doesn't want them to be, but she's also not about to immerse herself too deeply in any feelings of hope. they're obviously going to have a future in this town beyond these hours, beyond the walls of this house that currently allow them to keep this moment their own, but she hasn't even allowed herself to consider whether any of what will follow is something that will be theirs. ]
Yeah? Was I too distracting before? [ she might be giving herself too much credit there, but she can't resist the light ribbing, stretching out one leg to curve her toes against his calf and caressing the muscle that shifts as he moves.
she'd readily gone off on him before about how impossible it was to talk to him whenever he'd removed his shirt, most of it grounded in an attempt at humor, but there'd been some truth to it too, the appreciation she has for how he looks regardless of the number of scars that decorate his skin. she's seeing even more of him now and she doesn't even try to hide the way her gaze rakes over him.
she tips her face up to his before he kisses her, humming softly, her eyes closing for those few seconds until he withdraws to whisper close, and lashes flutter open for her to find his face as her hands rise to trail along the outside of his thighs, lightly dragging the edges of her nails there to see if she can note any particular sensitivities before one dips inward, between his legs, and she gently encircles him in her grasp. ] You've got me.
Mostly when you nagged. [ it's a harmless jab, mostly to tease those earlier days when she'd pester or toss about a cycle of terrible jokes. whatever frustration he'd had then was mostly credited to the overall circumstances in being trapped in a town he had no intention on stinking around in; no matter how much he'd roll his eyes in her direction, looking back now, it's ironic to think that all her consistent annoyances might have been one of the few things keeping him grounded at the start of it all.
he'd accepted sticking around, for the sake of finding a different way of getting, not only himself, but everyone out, but hadn't yet fully admitted how there'd really been reasons found for him actually partially settling for whatever time they were actually meant to stay here. it hadn't exactly been a secret how he'd begun to look after the younger crowd, albeit unintentionally, especially laura whom he'd found a different kind of resonance with. but then there's wynonna, who by no means needs to be looked after with her feisty stubbornness and yet had the heaviest anchor attached to his heels, a weight that now works to drag him over across her body once more, helpless when he finds his mouth seeking hers yet again.
he doesn't mean to say it, to speak it so clearly, but as the words leave him, he's too engaged with the warmth of her to reconsider them, letting the phrase wash over them both, grazes of his fingers at his sides making him shiver, clear enough for her to take notice of at this close a distance, especially when she curls her fingers to take him in hand, pulsing heat sensitive within her palm.
finding himself breathless again, he whispers almost harshly against her lips. ] Feels like you've got me.
Oh, mostly? Yeah? [ it's a light mimicry of his voice, higher in tenor and way more flippant, her eyebrows rising as she maintains that hovering distance between their mouths, lingering in to feel the heat of his breath when he speaks but knowing full well either of them could close in at any point for more than a teasing press. she's chuckling, and that sound diffuses into a quieter sigh at the feel of him, hard and pulsing against her palm, fingers that slowly start to stroke him from tip to base and back up again.
she settles on her back with him crouched low over her, watching his face while she touches him, noting the shifts and changes in those normally hardened features that seem to soften as he looks back at her, tension usually present at the edges of his eyes now removed — at least for the moment. ]
Yeah, I think I kinda do. [ again, she can't dwell on any greater meaning right in the heat of it, but later she might reflect back and wonder exactly what she was referring to this whole time, whether she'd only intended it to be about this night specifically or this new space they've carved out for one another to exist in, a niche that purely belongs to them.
and then she'll wonder why she's not more terrified by the concept of deepening her connection to him, why it's all too easy for her to kiss him now that she has tacit permission to initiate it, maintaining her hold on him as she lines her hips up beneath his, teases him between her legs. ]
[ if this were anywhere else — possibly across one of the tables at the diner, his eyes rolling as he masks his smirk behind a frequently refilled mug of coffee, or even as she hovers behind him in her kitchen, leaning over his shoulder as he crouches in front of her sink, trying to loosen up the pipes — he might be able to find some form of retaliation for her mockery, a playful retort or even the press of his index and thumb around her nose for a light pinch.
but the cards all align in her hands here, quite more literally than not, with the weight of his arousal being tended to by slow stroking gestures, easy by how slick he remains, still covered from when he'd already been inside of her just minutes earlier.
habit would have him ducking his head to hide those reactions written across his face, but the position doesn't allow that, not as she gets a prime view from where she lays beneath him. it's why he chooses not to hide it, his expression shifting into something more strained, the sensitivity of those touches leaving him to gnaw consistently at his lips each time they try to part for those light helpless gasps, the dangle of his ring hanging from its chain, gliding across her throat. eyes shutter to a half-closing, still seeing the haze of her laying there, watching him.
he's never been so vulnerable, so naked, than in this moment, even with her — but he lets her savor it how she wishes, lets her taste and wash over it, right up until it's her mouth on him again and she's so warm beneath him, heat emitted from that closeness. ] Wynonna. [ he whispers to her lips, aching and wanting, nudging his own hips forward to feel that slickness of hers slide easily along him, a slow grind that has him melting at the feel of her. ]
[ she knows she's in the better position to tease him like this, with words as well as touch, even if he does continue to loom over her — but she won't ever wield it against him, only with the intention to draw those sensations out lightly, building that arousal higher and higher like he'd done for her mere minutes ago. and she's still slick from it, her recent release doing nothing to diminish the need she still has for him.
in spite of the attraction she knows has existed, she hadn't really predicted any deeper feelings that might swell to the surface with their mutual decision to tumble into bed together, hadn't counted on gazing up at him and experiencing that undeniable tightness in her chest, pangs that have nothing to do with pain and everything to do with trust, wholly and completely. she doesn't look away from him, and him her, and she can feel the cylindrical weight that drops against her skin, warm metal dangling low on the chain that hangs from his neck.
no more running. she can't not think of it now, not only in his reactions so uninhibited, unhindered from her, but in what she's likely revealing in her own expression, the openness there as their mouths maintain that lazy drifting, soft caresses and brief dips of tongues that cause her hips to tilt upward, already seeking the press of that hard length much deeper than where it glides along that slickness. ]
Please. [ her hand slips out from between them and she's guiding her touch to his shoulders, holding on there, her need made plain in the open parting of her mouth, the wideness of her gaze, the bend of her knees along his hips to cradle him there against her, so close to where she wants him and yet not close enough. ] Please, Frank.
[ it'd have been easier to go about all this on his own, that's what he'd told himself, that it was safer to take on all of this on his own. but along the way, she'd somehow gained, not only his trust, but his reliance, seeking her out when he'd recognize trials he couldn't take on alone, from the taping together of his family's photograph to caring for laura when he didn't have the ability to. whether by choice or not, she'd seemingly always been there, right up until he'd begun to feel an emptiness in the perch whenever she wasn't.
he can't categorize where those feelings lie, what it means that his heart beats faster now merely by gazing down to her, in a way that's nothing to do with the accompanying heat lower in his belly. he's seen what it means for him to try to open his hands to instincts like these, to emotions he knows he wants to explore despite the impossibility of it, to the risks that this will all fall apart in a disaster far larger than anything he'd try to stitch together on his own. and he knows what it'd mean for her if he let her get as entangled with him as she does now.
but he doesn't stop, can't, not when she whimpers that plea against his mouth, following it with his name and tenderness on her lips. he'll take command now, simply in the way he reaches between them to properly align himself against her, the blunt tip of his length finding entry into endless slickness, the heat of her welcoming when he presses himself inside again.
with a strained groan, he kisses her again through it, as he finds a steadiness in filling it completely, readjusting to familiarize themselves again with that initial feeling that had thrown them into this, this extension of something that was meant to simply go by in a spontaneous rush, only to fall into the addiction of their company long after the fact. ] God, Wynonna. [ he mutters her name again, moving into a slow rocking that's made easy with everything they'd filled the morning with thus far, yet still as exhilarating as it had been those first moments they'd press together, tight heat taking him over in more than the physical. ]
[ the thought that she'd even, in any way, become a reliability for him wasn't anything she'd given space to at first; the only reason she'd been there to tape back that family photo, to begin with, was because she'd showed up to yell at him, and the situation had catapulted itself into something more critical and pressing. similarly, the only reason she'd been there to tend to him had been due to outside intervention, the anonymous text she'd soon figured out had come from laura desperate enough to draw her in — but the pollen warping their trust and thrusting them into undeniably intimate territory hadn't diminished their certainty of one another, even if they'd needed to take some time apart to really wrestle with what it all meant going forward.
and now, she might be more confused than ever but the flood of warmth in her limbs hasn't dwindled, and neither has the light in her eyes when she looks up at him. he steadies himself above her and she draws him close, draws herself in against him, she can't tell which, only that there's still distance between them that needs to disappear and it won't happen until he's within her; he finally, blissfully guides forward and her hips rise, completely surrendering, fingers clutching tight as a strangled sound works its way up from her throat.
it's different than before, when she'd taken him in, but still slow, tender; she can guide her forehead to his with lips parted to let her noises flow freely, every gasp and whimper that the steady thrusts of his hips provoke, and it's headier to feel him filling her from this angle, deeper somehow, hardness fitting perfectly into her curves while he moves. ] Frank.
[ she can't say anything else, isn't sure she wants to, because what else other than the name he's given her to use can even completely encapsulate what he's leaving her with, pleasure spiking strong and constant from that deep stroke. all she can do is hold on, turn their faces together, one arm slung over his shoulders as their lower halves come together and pull apart, again and again. ]
[ it differs from that first time, no longer merely testing, not left wondering how he might stretch her or how she might move against him. there's only been a limited experience, but somehow that mutual understanding of what they want, those unspoken desires, seem to come across more simple between them by way of those gentle moans that whisper their names and instinctive reaches of their fingers. with her plea, he isn't resisting in his process of sliding inside; once that initial press has him buried deep to the hilt, he'll roll his hips to a steady pace that matches the urgency of her soft whimpers.
he doesn't move fast, only firmly, still reaching for that even tenderness that comes at the careful motions which stroke her from the inside and reverberate to him in turn. as it becomes more clear of how he isn't meant to stay here in this bed with her for as long as he pleases, he recognizes that continued motivation to make it last, to make it good for both of them, still entirely sure of how they'll change and react once they've made it out of this.
but he'd been sincere when he said he wanted her, whether it simply be in the heat of this moment or something that'll outlast the morning and the day. her arm straps him in at the shoulder and he sinks closer in response, a single forearm braced on the mattress to offer that necessary support to thrust his hips forward, as a palm finds a firm grip to her thigh, fingertips enabling a tightening press to held it at his waist. and through the position, he can still catch glances of her, of watching her panting mouth and the way her lips shift to say his name, teeth pressing into the flesh there — and he knows he does want her, just like this, his name, his real name, spoken by her voice, while she sees him bare underneath all his skin as he sees her.
the ache to kiss her strikes him from moment to moment, a messy affair required when he seeks it, lips rolling in fast uncoordinated grazes by way of their thrusting motions, with the occasional swiping of tongues accompanying soft moans from his throat. ]
[ she hadn't objected to his earlier position between her thighs because of what he'd given her, skilled application of lips and tongue that had fully outweighed anything his dream counterpart had accomplished. he'd guided her to her peak without leaving her there to dangle from it, coaxing her through that release with a capability she'd only suspected before (and not just because of what his dating profile had more than implied).
but she likes him this close, almost prefers it, being able to witness those expressions filtered across his face or hear the sound of her name unmuffled, his pleasured groans fully reaching her hearing. and she likes being able to turn her face to his, steal those messy and uneven kisses that end up half-slanted together when she parts her lips to breathe harder from the exertion of their movements.
even this isn't hurried along, their bodies' pacing smooth and gradual, chasing pleasure rather than trying to outlast however many minutes they have left. she's ignoring the sands of time slipping through their fingers, instead residing firm in the knowledge that she has him here while she has him. the tension of his shoulders beneath her forearm and the slide of a large hand across her thigh keeps them definitively nestled, so close that she wonders if he can feel the fevered pulsing of her heart.
(she wants this, she wants this, and she won't know what to do when she doesn't have it in the hours to come.)
her eyes fight to stay open, to drink in every second they're entwined, but it's too many senses overwhelmed by him — sight, scent, taste, feeling — and she has to give up one to more fully embrace the rest, knowing she can trust him to cover her, to move inside her, to keep her safe while she floats, drifts, gives herself up to this moment if it's all she can lay claim to before he leaves, before they have to address the looming acknowledgment of what this means, what it changes for them. ]
[ he wonders if he'd actually stay longer if he didn't already know he'd have to leave once the time had ticked long enough, or if she'd want him to linger in her bed sheets with her even after the fact. as he chases a second release and urges her persistently towards her third, he doesn't imagine they'd be so quick to pursue yet another round following this (or really, he's sure he'd lack the energy to go for it without proper rest first, or at least a good cup of coffee that his body's now running a shortage of), but he wouldn't be opposed to dozing in the comfort of her arms, the ones that embrace him now, soothing to have one outstretched along his back, supporting him against her.
there'll be a thousand questions when this ends, along with the possibility that his stubbornness won't be fully convinced he even wants them answered, to reconsider stepping so deep into this, to leave himself so openly vulnerablr under her touch and her kiss, to let himself want something so unquestionably.
because it all runs on more than mere desire, even if the angle provided allows him to control those impending thrusts, knees braced as he stretches her on each bucking roll of his hips, the pace gradually picked up in rhythm with those panting breaths that mix in with hers. it wasn't lust that brought him to her house at this hour, it wasn't the subtle intention of seeking a physical entanglement; he'd come with a plate of requested fries and an instinctive desire to merely see her, because it'd become so routine now, so necessary to his standard schedule that there was almost an oddity to not seeing her with her pouted lips and smug smirks cracking out a tacky joke in his direction.
it's only her name on his lips now, a whisper between messy kisses, and choosing to not think of how his mind might change in the hours to come, he can only view this with complete lack of regret as he feels the press of her weight beneath them, skin warm and sticky from where theirs cling addictively together.
and when he begins to feel himself approach closer to that peak, a heated sensation that adds speed to his motions, he plucks a set of her fingers, tangling them with a set of his own, squeezing the hold together above her head. ]
[ their days here are mostly driven by different responsibilities now, hers taking her into a unique part of town from where he tends to reside behind that diner counter — and at alternating hours, depending on when she's been called on to tend bar. and as a result all of their meetings since have either been purely coincidental, like their literal collision at the mart a few weeks after the pollen had worn off, or entirely purposeful, like the invitation she'd extended his way to accompany her to chloe's party, or to the movies.
if she wants to see him — if she wants to pursue this — she might have to be more intentional about it, but maybe tonight had been the start of that seeking, unconscious or not. she hadn't set out to ask him to come over when she'd first called him up about that questionable yogurt, but in the end she had, and he hadn't turned her down, finding enough interest there to merit a drive out to the town's fringes. he'd come, and he's here, and it does feel like a shift on more than just the obvious front of knowing what the other looks like naked — because of the hour, because of the tenor their conversation had taken shortly before his arrival, because he'd asked for something stronger over coffee, all new touchstones leading up to him holding her, kissing her deeply, whispering her name.
she could lie, say she's only in this to scratch an itch that was in desperate need of satisfying, but that'd be a poor excuse to drive a wedge between them, to distance herself the way she would've liked to before she'd glimpsed more than begrudging tolerance in his gaze. she's seen more than that now, fondness and desire and something else besides, so naked and open that it would normally send her running in the opposite direction — but instead she chooses to wrap herself around him and hold on for dear life.
she senses him behind closed eyes, the syllables on his lips that form her name across their breaths, and all the while the warmth inside her burns hotter and hotter, threatening to burst; her thighs squeeze hard at his hips and she's rocking to meet him now, fingers interlocked tightly with his. ]
Don't stop. [ she knows he won't, not when the sweetness of release is within their shared grasp, their unison movement and the slide of skin over skin nudging her ever nearer to the edge — and then, right in that moment, she unfurls, that tension within breaking open finally, sensations hard enough to send shudders coursing through her, without and within, as she claims his mouth for a grateful, hungry kiss. ]
[ the entire conversation had begun with the most absurd topic, a question that was instantly met with a roll of his eyes which he'd imagine she'd be able to see in her mind even with their distance, considering the consistency in which her ridiculous commentary frequently sprouted it. and not once did he intend or expect the mood to shift as it did, for casual comments to twist into subtle flirtation that even he wasn't entirely sure could be used to describe it, not until she'd ask him what he would want, and he casually answered a drink, without ever having the idea that it would somehow lead them to where they are now, rolling relentlessly in her bed sheets.
after the pollen, they had brushed aside their behaviors during their time with tangled limbs in his bed, crediting the compromised air as a reason for it, but if evidence of tonight (this morning) had proven anything, it was that the pollen might have hardly affected them at all, as soon in the easy way they engage together, whether in physical urgency or the playful banter that they can somehow bat back and forth in between.
but all the hints had been there from early on, back when conincidences had stopped being just there and had transformed into purposeful meetings, intentions on either of their parts to find each other either in a regularly set timeframe at the diner or some phone call to encourage one of them in the other's direction (mostly him to her, and mostly to fix some other fidgety appliance). everything had become a chain of excuses, to hear her, to see her, and it isn't until now that frank's coming to realize how much he wants her as a regularity in his every day, as a solid constant for him to draw himself back on whenever he feels himself stray towards his standard brand of darkness.
dont't stop, and he won't, only driving himself harder between her thighs, sore slickness nudging their hips in fervid presses, to where all he needs to move is a bracing on his knees that allows him to dive into her with little resistance. even as he feels her inevitable clench, the sweetness of her gripping desperately around him as if to keep him there, he moves as if it really might just be the last time that they have this, to make it good, to make it memorable for both of them.
he's forced to part from her kiss when his teeth grit unintentionally, a rasping groan caught in his throat as that build finally reaches its intended place. curling his fingers tighter within hers, he lets his release fill her once more, every drop left there as a reminder as if memory were not enough. though the memory definitely won't vanish, not of this, of any of it, sure that he'll feel the phantom sensations of her clenching around him even in the hours to come, that her moaning cries of his name will still ring softly in his ear, and her taste will remain heavy on his tongue even in the coming days. ]
[ god, she's going to be feeling this later; it's the first thought she has when he finishes within her, heat flooding her system as the fringes of her climax finally ripple out, down the length of her limbs to the tips of her fingers and toes before finally evaporating altogether, leaving her to fall limp beneath him with her arm still draped across his back. it'll take her a minute to remember how words work, to regain all sensation in her lower half, to even think of using her hips at all, and in that interim she can nudge her nose against his cheek, sighing softly.
in some ways, she's grateful they waited until now, the temptations from the pollen drifting in through that cracked window almost too strong to resist until she'd inadvertently prodded his injured shoulder; if they'd done this then, allowed hands and mouths to explore more than just above-the-waist territory, she really wouldn't have been able to look him in the eye after that, questioning everything. now, there's nothing about this that she doubts, when he strains over her for those few lengthy seconds, hips powering through until the end, and then finally stills.
idly, she lets her hand stroke over him — his hair down to his shoulders and between those rounded curves along his spine, lightly using her fingertips to trace the arc that shifts with even the slightest movement from him. she hasn't squeezed out from underneath him, and she's not complaining about the subtle press of his weight against her or the fact that they're still technically joined. but she does let her eyes flick open, and she does venture a glance over in the direction of the clock on the bedside table, pushing out a sigh between subtly pursed lips.
her gaze drifts back to his and if her hand relinquishes its grip on his fingers it's only to smooth along the side of his face, combing down the edges of his beard when it moves along his jawline, hairs thick and soft to the touch. the idea of doing this would have never entered her mind until now — and now, it's the first instinct she has. ]
Do you have to go? [ the question leaves her soft, almost a whisper but not quite, her voice a little deeper, thicker from the hour and the earlier strain; she can feel sleep tugging on the edges of her consciousness but she doesn't want to drift off and then wake up to find the bed empty, no sign of him here apart from those cold fries and two empty glasses on the coffee table. but she'll surrender her hold on him because she knows he has things he needs to take care of, and she doesn't know if she's necessarily earned more of a right to his presence than anyone else here. ]
[ he’d been able to gather himself back together after a single release, letting the energy flicker back into his legs for him to scoop her up into his arms and around through the foyer and all the way up the stairs to her bedroom, before carrying on even further from there. but it’s now with this second — hips bucking a little harder in indication of how this one was felt a little stronger, heavier, by way of the more gradual build-up, the taste of her stirring him slow before she’d offered those additional strokes to excite him further — the exhaustion truly begins to be felt, beginning with his legs that had supported him thoroughly from his knees, up towards his chest where his heart had collided with the walls as it pounded ferociously within.
he knows he should direct his attention to the clock, take note of the time and begin a quick scramble to clean himself up and gather his clothes from downstairs, but her fingers slip away from his for the purpose of merely caressing him, gentle strokes that urge him to shut his eyes as he partially hovers over her, hips nudged a little low against her with his weight from the decline of strength. it’s a soothing touch from her that makes it all the more difficult to move from where he lays, leaning his cheek into her palm.
and then she presents the question, his eyes blink slowly open, soft gaze falling over her, flecks of sun slipping through the curtain now to provide a developing glow along her cheeks.
of course he has to go. because that was always the plan, always the inevitable outcome of all of this, especially when it was never supposed to be anything more. and he has the response on his tongue, ready to let the yes float from his lips and accept the end of their dreamlike morning — but it never comes, the word not quite forming as his mind spins different ones entirely. ]
Not if you want me to stay. [ he says in an equally soft whisper, the light rasp of his own voice more natural with his standard tone. turning his eyes, he presses a kiss into her palm, lips brushing over the lifelines before he lets his face sink into her touch again, gaze peering back to her with as much of a focus as he can conjure with tired eyes, intent on letting her know that he means it.
he’ll have to slip downstairs to scramble for his phone and make a quick call to a part-timer to bribe him into taking an earlier shift, but the small chore is bearable compared to the thought of leaving her altogether for the extended hours ahead. ]
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she tastes of salt and sweat, sex and slickness, and when he rolls his tongue along that soft skin, it's become as much for him as it is for her, encouraged by the way she shifts her fingers into his head to urge him on, the tugs that come from it exhilarating with those soft stings it provides, knowing he'd only be aroused further if she tightened her fingers further around the strands.
there's no other words from him now that he's found a steady rhythm there against her, but it doesn't cease the noises that arise, soft groans vibrating against her when he parts his lips over that swollen button to suck gently, wanting to test where her voice travels, how she chooses to direct him, or if her body merely tenses in response to what he does to her.
it's all experimental, even if he has his experiences to know those spots that rouse a little more confidently; even though there'd be uncertainty about this, the longer he spends tasting her, touching her, the more likely it seems of this being more than these hours, that what he does to her now and what he learns from it, might even come into play during a later experience. not that he occupies much of his head with thinking of later, more distracted with the now. even if it doesn't go beyond this, beyond this bed, he'll make use of the minutes anyway, to make it worthwhile for all that she had sought out from a mere dream, to give her a reality that does more with a solid tongue and succulent lips, offering something that should be more satisfying than a fantasy. ]
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she tries to maintain slow and even breaths, but he's too experimental, too set on learning her, and she realizes that she's not going to be able to rest for as long as he's down there, hips twitching underneath everything from the light suction of his lips to firmer drags from his tongue until she's forced to grip a little harder at his hair and hope she's not hurting him while the other finds purchase in the sheets beneath her, flexing and relaxing her fingers whenever he stumbles across a more sensitive spot.
some of that slickness is theirs, but more and more it's being replaced by arousal that's hers and hers alone under the ministrations of his mouth, the groans that create an added vibration over tender flesh, and when she tugs at his hair now it's not to steer him in any one direction but to clue him into the fact that what he's doing is good, so good.
the problem with finally getting to have this, him, the two of them together in her bed, figuring each other out, is that when it's all over she's going to feel the loss of it. maybe it would have been better not knowing, because now that she knows how he can make her feel she won't be ready to relinquish it, to surrender it, to backtrack and pretend this isn't what they are. what she wants them to be. even if she might not be able to say it out loud yet. ]
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but there’s no rush here, not as his tongue tracks the corners of her folds to find those places where the fierce tug of her gripping fingers clues him in on that pooling arousal, marking those favorable spots with spit, soon lost in the mixture of her slickness, now more consistent to taste than what was once both of them together. the more he takes his time, the more he begins to memorize the signals of what she likes, those hardly subtle jolts of her hips that seeks out more of his experimental press, massaging those areas with the firm tip of wet muscle.
soon, though, he’ll seek out the point of entry, fingers dipping in to spread her open until he can penetrate gently with his tongue, stroking her walls with that limited reach, but moaning low to amplify the sensations and relay his own satisfaction with the position.
there’s enough here that he doesn’t have to think about what comes after; she’s an overwhelming and addictive taste on his tongue, a soothing rhythm of moans at his ears, and he’ll take everything she offers without taking a single dose of it for granted. he’s led her to her release once, and he’ll aim to take her there again, not opposed to the potential of yet another after that if it means letting these very early morning hours last longer than they should. ]
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there's no rush, even while she occasionally devolves into writhing underneath him, some of those probing strokes turning into teases that she figures he may not completely intend on delivering but doesn't withdraw when she offers a more pleading whimper, or a stronger clutching of fingers in his hair, instead giving her more — and the tension within her starts to spike. ]
Frank, shit. [ it's nothing compared to when his tongue dips into her, when he utters those soft noises into her skin, half-muffled by where he is but palpably felt as it ripples across her body and makes her hips lift again, knowing he'll only be able to get so far but unable to completely refrain. it's now her need that drips against his mouth, makes her fight not to squeeze her thighs together.
she's not sure if she should be surprised that she's already close, or impressed that he's brought her to near-bursting so soon, but it promises to be no less intense than the first time and she can feel the heat pull together, form a taut sphere within her. she tugs at his hair, tries to signal she's close but can't eke out anything beyond a louder moan before she finally unravels into a mess of quivering limbs. ]
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he groans against her with that more obvious tug, a sting in his scalp that prompts him to rub a little harder at those slick walls, now lost in the consuming presence of her arousal heavy on his mouth.
he’s growing hard again, a heavy weight now hanging between his thighs where his knees remain spread on the mattress. while he knew there was plenty of a chance of getting turned on by the mere act of tasting her like this, he hadn’t anticipated that extent of an erection, thought there was a lot to be said about the exhilaration stemming from these new experiences with her. still, even if the sounds at his throat might signal those heightening levels of interest, there’s no intention on his mind besides what he has in front of him now, especially if she’s peaking there so soon.
eventually he caves when his arm curves around her thigh, hand dipping to that center to press his thumb on that sensitive bud, fast motions swirling the pad to offer quick rubs, with spread slickness allowing for an easy slide. paired with his thrusting tongue, he won’t stop until she forces him to, making sure she’s consumed by all the sensations he can provide at once. ]
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Je-sus Christ. [ her heartbeat is a rush in her ears, that thrumming pulse enough to daze her for those first few seconds that she's merely lying there before a smile finally hits her, lips peeling apart to flash him the extent of her pearly whites as she brings a hand to her forehead, pushes out a weak chuckle. parts of her are still twitching, those residual spasms causing her to clench involuntarily around nothing, abs fluttering until those lingering aftershocks finally subside.
and when she tips her head to the side to glance down the length of her own body, she spots him there, half-visible from that vantage point, but she doesn't quite perceive the mess she's left behind on him until he eases up and she discovers it, that patch of hair beneath his chin showing entirely obvious signs of what he's just been doing. she struggles to push herself up into sitting and stretches out a hand toward him, closing fingers around the strength of one of his forearms. ]
Sorry, I might've — [ she gestures to her own face, in the vicinity of the affected area, and she can't seem to ditch the silly-stupid grin on her mouth, her cheeks hurting from how much she's attempting to suppress it at the sight of him wearing her like that. ]
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but it’s mostly from a firm mouth that aids her in riding through it, that tongue never quite leaving its station against her, where he can taste all that’s coaxed from her in that single release, running it over his lips and spreading against his chin even as his tongue aims to clean her in lasting swipes. and he takes her all in, right up until she’s powering down, the weight of her slumping onto the bed and loosening from their tight press to his face.
when he finally peers up, it’s as she angles to steal a glance in his direction. and while he’d anticipated some level of a reaction from her, the beaming smile that spreads quite obviously across her face isn’t quite the one he’d have likely predicted. and it’s only when she gestures that he takes the hint, confusion in the tilt of his brows shifting when he brings his fingers into the hair at his chin, the contact noting him quick of its stickiness. ]
Well, shit. [ it’s spoken so matter of fact, and soon follows with a tilted grin of his own, almost embarrassed if he weren’t so entertained by her more obvious amusement. Pursing his lips (but not before swiping a steady lick across them), he gives a soft shrug where he’s still bent over her thighs. ] I don’t know. Think it’s a pretty good look.
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You think? So you're gonna show up at the diner tomorrow rocking that accessory? [ more like today, she thinks to herself, whenever that happens to be; she dimly realizes she's been keeping him from being there now but she can't find much reason to feel too bad about it unless he starts getting a dozen angry texts about why the lights aren't on.
selfish, that's what she feels, but there's no guilt in that emotion and she scoots forward carefully, mindful of the sensitivity in her hips, her thighs until she can situate herself directly beneath him, lifting her hand to clutch fingers around his chin (and in the midst of that sticky beard). ]
I don't know. I think I could get used to it. [ and maybe she's considered the implications of that remark, or maybe she hasn't given it a second thought, but she closes the distance to kiss him either way right after it, heedless of any shine that may rub off on her face in the process. ]
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instead, he’s still engaged in watching her, listening to the soft comments that spell her casual, eased tone, the one that signals that he’s clearly got her on her good side now, instead of the frantic flustered that had stormed into his apartment when he’d undergone yogi bear syndrome.
he sits back on his knees, straightening his upper body when she shifts forward to be level with her, leaning in when she tucks her fingers amongst the mess of his beard.
could get used to it, he repeats in his head, and though it might simply be an off-hand unintended comment, he isn’t opposed to that idea, to this. having only literally gotten a taste of it, of the way they’re learning each other, even in more intimate corners. even the simple gesture of kissing him, when he’s coated with her on his tongue, the same way in which he’d lapped up remnants of himself between her thighs — there’s something almost trusting in that, arousing as well, and he doesn’t draw back from kissing her in return, licking her lips and parting his own for her to taste herself on him. ]
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and she shrugs up to him, even if she'd be more than happy to just remain lounging across the bed until her limbs regain more sensation — but she can't refrain from stealing another kiss, messy as it is, uninhibited by the taste of herself on his lips, his tongue. if anything, it makes her melt into him more, humming her appreciation for his earlier work into his mouth as it deepens naturally with lips that part for his tongue. but even that kiss isn't rushed through, closer to savored, before she finally stretches out across the bed and studies him from that angle. ]
I might be checking him out a little next time I'm in there. [ not that he hadn't garnered her attention before, their dynamic reaching a stage where she'd felt comfortable plopping herself into his booth, across from him, without even checking to see if he wanted the company, inhabiting his space for the span of a few cups of coffee and maybe a plate of her own eggs and bacon if he'd polished off most of his own before her arrival. but he's a working man now, spending most of his time behind that counter or towards the grill, so maybe she'll have to start rethinking her seating arrangement for the foreseeable future.
her smile is faint, but no less fond as she glances up at him, on his knees over her, and then it's as if her gaze descends without her initially planning on it — but she finds him hard and ready and it doesn't take her long to deduce when that must have happened, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. ] You want more?
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Careful with that. You don't wanna be distracting him too much. [ even with the teases, it still doesn't clarify how they might change their behaviors when they actually do eventually return to their usual routine. whether awkwardness in realization after the fact might stumble the way they speak to one another in public conversation, or if they can still engage in that standard banter with just a bit more awareness now held on every word. whatever the route, it's inevitable that what they have is certainly different, and he won't be able to play pretend regarding that fact, even if worry subconsciously tugs at his mind over getting this close.
it won't be easy to miss the blatant view between his legs now, especially once she's shuffled her body down closer to him, and he can follow her eyes when they gaze low, a subtle flush on his cheeks when she draws attention to it. ]
Maybe. [ he says with his own brand of teasing, even if he's become the focus in a mere shift. but he leans down, hovering over her once more so that mouths align, lips grazing gently in a partial kiss. ] I do know I want you. [ it isn't meant to mean anything beyond where they are, the heat between them that resides in this bed; he won't think about how it might signify anything else, anything once they've said their heads on straight again, but it doesn't seem to matter much to him right now. ]
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Yeah? Was I too distracting before? [ she might be giving herself too much credit there, but she can't resist the light ribbing, stretching out one leg to curve her toes against his calf and caressing the muscle that shifts as he moves.
she'd readily gone off on him before about how impossible it was to talk to him whenever he'd removed his shirt, most of it grounded in an attempt at humor, but there'd been some truth to it too, the appreciation she has for how he looks regardless of the number of scars that decorate his skin. she's seeing even more of him now and she doesn't even try to hide the way her gaze rakes over him.
she tips her face up to his before he kisses her, humming softly, her eyes closing for those few seconds until he withdraws to whisper close, and lashes flutter open for her to find his face as her hands rise to trail along the outside of his thighs, lightly dragging the edges of her nails there to see if she can note any particular sensitivities before one dips inward, between his legs, and she gently encircles him in her grasp. ] You've got me.
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he'd accepted sticking around, for the sake of finding a different way of getting, not only himself, but everyone out, but hadn't yet fully admitted how there'd really been reasons found for him actually partially settling for whatever time they were actually meant to stay here. it hadn't exactly been a secret how he'd begun to look after the younger crowd, albeit unintentionally, especially laura whom he'd found a different kind of resonance with. but then there's wynonna, who by no means needs to be looked after with her feisty stubbornness and yet had the heaviest anchor attached to his heels, a weight that now works to drag him over across her body once more, helpless when he finds his mouth seeking hers yet again.
he doesn't mean to say it, to speak it so clearly, but as the words leave him, he's too engaged with the warmth of her to reconsider them, letting the phrase wash over them both, grazes of his fingers at his sides making him shiver, clear enough for her to take notice of at this close a distance, especially when she curls her fingers to take him in hand, pulsing heat sensitive within her palm.
finding himself breathless again, he whispers almost harshly against her lips. ] Feels like you've got me.
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she settles on her back with him crouched low over her, watching his face while she touches him, noting the shifts and changes in those normally hardened features that seem to soften as he looks back at her, tension usually present at the edges of his eyes now removed — at least for the moment. ]
Yeah, I think I kinda do. [ again, she can't dwell on any greater meaning right in the heat of it, but later she might reflect back and wonder exactly what she was referring to this whole time, whether she'd only intended it to be about this night specifically or this new space they've carved out for one another to exist in, a niche that purely belongs to them.
and then she'll wonder why she's not more terrified by the concept of deepening her connection to him, why it's all too easy for her to kiss him now that she has tacit permission to initiate it, maintaining her hold on him as she lines her hips up beneath his, teases him between her legs. ]
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but the cards all align in her hands here, quite more literally than not, with the weight of his arousal being tended to by slow stroking gestures, easy by how slick he remains, still covered from when he'd already been inside of her just minutes earlier.
habit would have him ducking his head to hide those reactions written across his face, but the position doesn't allow that, not as she gets a prime view from where she lays beneath him. it's why he chooses not to hide it, his expression shifting into something more strained, the sensitivity of those touches leaving him to gnaw consistently at his lips each time they try to part for those light helpless gasps, the dangle of his ring hanging from its chain, gliding across her throat. eyes shutter to a half-closing, still seeing the haze of her laying there, watching him.
he's never been so vulnerable, so naked, than in this moment, even with her — but he lets her savor it how she wishes, lets her taste and wash over it, right up until it's her mouth on him again and she's so warm beneath him, heat emitted from that closeness. ] Wynonna. [ he whispers to her lips, aching and wanting, nudging his own hips forward to feel that slickness of hers slide easily along him, a slow grind that has him melting at the feel of her. ]
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in spite of the attraction she knows has existed, she hadn't really predicted any deeper feelings that might swell to the surface with their mutual decision to tumble into bed together, hadn't counted on gazing up at him and experiencing that undeniable tightness in her chest, pangs that have nothing to do with pain and everything to do with trust, wholly and completely. she doesn't look away from him, and him her, and she can feel the cylindrical weight that drops against her skin, warm metal dangling low on the chain that hangs from his neck.
no more running. she can't not think of it now, not only in his reactions so uninhibited, unhindered from her, but in what she's likely revealing in her own expression, the openness there as their mouths maintain that lazy drifting, soft caresses and brief dips of tongues that cause her hips to tilt upward, already seeking the press of that hard length much deeper than where it glides along that slickness. ]
Please. [ her hand slips out from between them and she's guiding her touch to his shoulders, holding on there, her need made plain in the open parting of her mouth, the wideness of her gaze, the bend of her knees along his hips to cradle him there against her, so close to where she wants him and yet not close enough. ] Please, Frank.
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he can't categorize where those feelings lie, what it means that his heart beats faster now merely by gazing down to her, in a way that's nothing to do with the accompanying heat lower in his belly. he's seen what it means for him to try to open his hands to instincts like these, to emotions he knows he wants to explore despite the impossibility of it, to the risks that this will all fall apart in a disaster far larger than anything he'd try to stitch together on his own. and he knows what it'd mean for her if he let her get as entangled with him as she does now.
but he doesn't stop, can't, not when she whimpers that plea against his mouth, following it with his name and tenderness on her lips. he'll take command now, simply in the way he reaches between them to properly align himself against her, the blunt tip of his length finding entry into endless slickness, the heat of her welcoming when he presses himself inside again.
with a strained groan, he kisses her again through it, as he finds a steadiness in filling it completely, readjusting to familiarize themselves again with that initial feeling that had thrown them into this, this extension of something that was meant to simply go by in a spontaneous rush, only to fall into the addiction of their company long after the fact. ] God, Wynonna. [ he mutters her name again, moving into a slow rocking that's made easy with everything they'd filled the morning with thus far, yet still as exhilarating as it had been those first moments they'd press together, tight heat taking him over in more than the physical. ]
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and now, she might be more confused than ever but the flood of warmth in her limbs hasn't dwindled, and neither has the light in her eyes when she looks up at him. he steadies himself above her and she draws him close, draws herself in against him, she can't tell which, only that there's still distance between them that needs to disappear and it won't happen until he's within her; he finally, blissfully guides forward and her hips rise, completely surrendering, fingers clutching tight as a strangled sound works its way up from her throat.
it's different than before, when she'd taken him in, but still slow, tender; she can guide her forehead to his with lips parted to let her noises flow freely, every gasp and whimper that the steady thrusts of his hips provoke, and it's headier to feel him filling her from this angle, deeper somehow, hardness fitting perfectly into her curves while he moves. ] Frank.
[ she can't say anything else, isn't sure she wants to, because what else other than the name he's given her to use can even completely encapsulate what he's leaving her with, pleasure spiking strong and constant from that deep stroke. all she can do is hold on, turn their faces together, one arm slung over his shoulders as their lower halves come together and pull apart, again and again. ]
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he doesn't move fast, only firmly, still reaching for that even tenderness that comes at the careful motions which stroke her from the inside and reverberate to him in turn. as it becomes more clear of how he isn't meant to stay here in this bed with her for as long as he pleases, he recognizes that continued motivation to make it last, to make it good for both of them, still entirely sure of how they'll change and react once they've made it out of this.
but he'd been sincere when he said he wanted her, whether it simply be in the heat of this moment or something that'll outlast the morning and the day. her arm straps him in at the shoulder and he sinks closer in response, a single forearm braced on the mattress to offer that necessary support to thrust his hips forward, as a palm finds a firm grip to her thigh, fingertips enabling a tightening press to held it at his waist. and through the position, he can still catch glances of her, of watching her panting mouth and the way her lips shift to say his name, teeth pressing into the flesh there — and he knows he does want her, just like this, his name, his real name, spoken by her voice, while she sees him bare underneath all his skin as he sees her.
the ache to kiss her strikes him from moment to moment, a messy affair required when he seeks it, lips rolling in fast uncoordinated grazes by way of their thrusting motions, with the occasional swiping of tongues accompanying soft moans from his throat. ]
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but she likes him this close, almost prefers it, being able to witness those expressions filtered across his face or hear the sound of her name unmuffled, his pleasured groans fully reaching her hearing. and she likes being able to turn her face to his, steal those messy and uneven kisses that end up half-slanted together when she parts her lips to breathe harder from the exertion of their movements.
even this isn't hurried along, their bodies' pacing smooth and gradual, chasing pleasure rather than trying to outlast however many minutes they have left. she's ignoring the sands of time slipping through their fingers, instead residing firm in the knowledge that she has him here while she has him. the tension of his shoulders beneath her forearm and the slide of a large hand across her thigh keeps them definitively nestled, so close that she wonders if he can feel the fevered pulsing of her heart.
(she wants this, she wants this, and she won't know what to do when she doesn't have it in the hours to come.)
her eyes fight to stay open, to drink in every second they're entwined, but it's too many senses overwhelmed by him — sight, scent, taste, feeling — and she has to give up one to more fully embrace the rest, knowing she can trust him to cover her, to move inside her, to keep her safe while she floats, drifts, gives herself up to this moment if it's all she can lay claim to before he leaves, before they have to address the looming acknowledgment of what this means, what it changes for them. ]
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there'll be a thousand questions when this ends, along with the possibility that his stubbornness won't be fully convinced he even wants them answered, to reconsider stepping so deep into this, to leave himself so openly vulnerablr under her touch and her kiss, to let himself want something so unquestionably.
because it all runs on more than mere desire, even if the angle provided allows him to control those impending thrusts, knees braced as he stretches her on each bucking roll of his hips, the pace gradually picked up in rhythm with those panting breaths that mix in with hers. it wasn't lust that brought him to her house at this hour, it wasn't the subtle intention of seeking a physical entanglement; he'd come with a plate of requested fries and an instinctive desire to merely see her, because it'd become so routine now, so necessary to his standard schedule that there was almost an oddity to not seeing her with her pouted lips and smug smirks cracking out a tacky joke in his direction.
it's only her name on his lips now, a whisper between messy kisses, and choosing to not think of how his mind might change in the hours to come, he can only view this with complete lack of regret as he feels the press of her weight beneath them, skin warm and sticky from where theirs cling addictively together.
and when he begins to feel himself approach closer to that peak, a heated sensation that adds speed to his motions, he plucks a set of her fingers, tangling them with a set of his own, squeezing the hold together above her head. ]
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if she wants to see him — if she wants to pursue this — she might have to be more intentional about it, but maybe tonight had been the start of that seeking, unconscious or not. she hadn't set out to ask him to come over when she'd first called him up about that questionable yogurt, but in the end she had, and he hadn't turned her down, finding enough interest there to merit a drive out to the town's fringes. he'd come, and he's here, and it does feel like a shift on more than just the obvious front of knowing what the other looks like naked — because of the hour, because of the tenor their conversation had taken shortly before his arrival, because he'd asked for something stronger over coffee, all new touchstones leading up to him holding her, kissing her deeply, whispering her name.
she could lie, say she's only in this to scratch an itch that was in desperate need of satisfying, but that'd be a poor excuse to drive a wedge between them, to distance herself the way she would've liked to before she'd glimpsed more than begrudging tolerance in his gaze. she's seen more than that now, fondness and desire and something else besides, so naked and open that it would normally send her running in the opposite direction — but instead she chooses to wrap herself around him and hold on for dear life.
she senses him behind closed eyes, the syllables on his lips that form her name across their breaths, and all the while the warmth inside her burns hotter and hotter, threatening to burst; her thighs squeeze hard at his hips and she's rocking to meet him now, fingers interlocked tightly with his. ]
Don't stop. [ she knows he won't, not when the sweetness of release is within their shared grasp, their unison movement and the slide of skin over skin nudging her ever nearer to the edge — and then, right in that moment, she unfurls, that tension within breaking open finally, sensations hard enough to send shudders coursing through her, without and within, as she claims his mouth for a grateful, hungry kiss. ]
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after the pollen, they had brushed aside their behaviors during their time with tangled limbs in his bed, crediting the compromised air as a reason for it, but if evidence of tonight (this morning) had proven anything, it was that the pollen might have hardly affected them at all, as soon in the easy way they engage together, whether in physical urgency or the playful banter that they can somehow bat back and forth in between.
but all the hints had been there from early on, back when conincidences had stopped being just there and had transformed into purposeful meetings, intentions on either of their parts to find each other either in a regularly set timeframe at the diner or some phone call to encourage one of them in the other's direction (mostly him to her, and mostly to fix some other fidgety appliance). everything had become a chain of excuses, to hear her, to see her, and it isn't until now that frank's coming to realize how much he wants her as a regularity in his every day, as a solid constant for him to draw himself back on whenever he feels himself stray towards his standard brand of darkness.
dont't stop, and he won't, only driving himself harder between her thighs, sore slickness nudging their hips in fervid presses, to where all he needs to move is a bracing on his knees that allows him to dive into her with little resistance. even as he feels her inevitable clench, the sweetness of her gripping desperately around him as if to keep him there, he moves as if it really might just be the last time that they have this, to make it good, to make it memorable for both of them.
he's forced to part from her kiss when his teeth grit unintentionally, a rasping groan caught in his throat as that build finally reaches its intended place. curling his fingers tighter within hers, he lets his release fill her once more, every drop left there as a reminder as if memory were not enough. though the memory definitely won't vanish, not of this, of any of it, sure that he'll feel the phantom sensations of her clenching around him even in the hours to come, that her moaning cries of his name will still ring softly in his ear, and her taste will remain heavy on his tongue even in the coming days. ]
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in some ways, she's grateful they waited until now, the temptations from the pollen drifting in through that cracked window almost too strong to resist until she'd inadvertently prodded his injured shoulder; if they'd done this then, allowed hands and mouths to explore more than just above-the-waist territory, she really wouldn't have been able to look him in the eye after that, questioning everything. now, there's nothing about this that she doubts, when he strains over her for those few lengthy seconds, hips powering through until the end, and then finally stills.
idly, she lets her hand stroke over him — his hair down to his shoulders and between those rounded curves along his spine, lightly using her fingertips to trace the arc that shifts with even the slightest movement from him. she hasn't squeezed out from underneath him, and she's not complaining about the subtle press of his weight against her or the fact that they're still technically joined. but she does let her eyes flick open, and she does venture a glance over in the direction of the clock on the bedside table, pushing out a sigh between subtly pursed lips.
her gaze drifts back to his and if her hand relinquishes its grip on his fingers it's only to smooth along the side of his face, combing down the edges of his beard when it moves along his jawline, hairs thick and soft to the touch. the idea of doing this would have never entered her mind until now — and now, it's the first instinct she has. ]
Do you have to go? [ the question leaves her soft, almost a whisper but not quite, her voice a little deeper, thicker from the hour and the earlier strain; she can feel sleep tugging on the edges of her consciousness but she doesn't want to drift off and then wake up to find the bed empty, no sign of him here apart from those cold fries and two empty glasses on the coffee table. but she'll surrender her hold on him because she knows he has things he needs to take care of, and she doesn't know if she's necessarily earned more of a right to his presence than anyone else here. ]
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he knows he should direct his attention to the clock, take note of the time and begin a quick scramble to clean himself up and gather his clothes from downstairs, but her fingers slip away from his for the purpose of merely caressing him, gentle strokes that urge him to shut his eyes as he partially hovers over her, hips nudged a little low against her with his weight from the decline of strength. it’s a soothing touch from her that makes it all the more difficult to move from where he lays, leaning his cheek into her palm.
and then she presents the question, his eyes blink slowly open, soft gaze falling over her, flecks of sun slipping through the curtain now to provide a developing glow along her cheeks.
of course he has to go. because that was always the plan, always the inevitable outcome of all of this, especially when it was never supposed to be anything more. and he has the response on his tongue, ready to let the yes float from his lips and accept the end of their dreamlike morning — but it never comes, the word not quite forming as his mind spins different ones entirely. ]
Not if you want me to stay. [ he says in an equally soft whisper, the light rasp of his own voice more natural with his standard tone. turning his eyes, he presses a kiss into her palm, lips brushing over the lifelines before he lets his face sink into her touch again, gaze peering back to her with as much of a focus as he can conjure with tired eyes, intent on letting her know that he means it.
he’ll have to slip downstairs to scramble for his phone and make a quick call to a part-timer to bribe him into taking an earlier shift, but the small chore is bearable compared to the thought of leaving her altogether for the extended hours ahead. ]
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