Work Text:
Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)
“Mel. You’re drooling.”
“Huh? Oh.”
Her head popped up from the open Gray’s Anatomy textbook she’d been using as a pillow, after she’d dozed off somewhere between the flexor longus pollicis and the pronator quadratus. At some point during her studying (napping), Frank had snuck into the breakroom. He looked rather amused, eyeing her from the other chair as she quickly wiped away at the drool on her chin.
“I’m not sure studying for your boards works via osmosis,” he teased.
Mel rubbed at her temple, willing the words to stick anyway. “Every time I get a free second to read this, I fall right to sleep.” She groaned, “I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to get any studying done on night shift.”
Frank slid the massive textbook toward himself, letting out a long whistle as he eyed the page. Then he snapped it closed.
“You need a break.”
“I’m taking a break right now!” Mel protested, gesturing vaguely toward the room around them. “See? Break room.”
Frank’s finger tapped on the text book. “You need a break from this. You look exhausted, Mel. Why don’t you go take a nap in the call room? I’ll get someone to cover your patients.”
She shook her head briskly. “No, no. I just took one! I’m good to go.”
“I meant a real nap. In an actual bed, with an actual pillow.”
“Dr. Langdon, really, I—”
“Mel.”
Her mouth snapped closed. The sternness had almost made her flinch. Frank’s expression shifted, hardening nearly into stone. The corner of his lip twitched.
“I asked you to call me Frank, remember?”
“Well I–I know you said I could,” she sputtered, struggling to find her words under the weight of his darkening stare. “But it—it just feels a little unprofessional, I guess. I mean you’re my senior and—”
“Is that all I am?” he chuckled, lightening up a bit. “And here I was thinking we were friends.”
“Oh!” Mel squeaked. “We are friends! Of course we’re friends Dr. La—er. F-frank. Frank.”
The second one had come out quite a bit softer. Forming the name in her mouth felt strange. Frank. She’d said before it, of course. Many times in the quiet of her bedroom, between pitiful moans muffled beneath her blanket. As if he could somehow catch her, all alone with her hand in her panties, imagining it was him. His blue eyes narrowed on her. Could he see the shame of it written on her face?
He cocked his head. “Now. Was that so hard?”
Mel swallowed. Behind a satisfied grin, Frank’s jaw was flexed—she wondered if more was trapped there, just beyond his lips. A pink tongue snuck across them, and she nearly shuddered.
“N-no.”
“Good. I like it when you listen to me.”
Her stomach flipped as the words left his lips. They floated across the table, up her back and across her neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Oh. I’m still dreaming. She pinched herself beneath the table—hard. And jolted at the pain.
“Oh I…” Mel’s eyes danced over his face as she searched for a response. He looked dangerously handsome as always; a fact she tried her hardest to ignore when they worked together. She was always averting her gaze from the curiously sharp line of his jaw, worried her clenched fists might betray her, and her fingers somehow find their way there to trace the angle. Memorize it with her touch.
That night, there was a new, tempting haze of stubble on his cheeks. She had to grip her scrub pants to stop herself from reaching for it.
“...I like listening to you,” Mel admitted softly, beyond her control. The words had popped into her head, and she hadn’t had the strength to fight them off. Not well past 1 AM with exhaustion clouding her mind. Not with Frank eyeing her curiously, like she was a treasure waiting to be opened, and her response was the key.
His nostrils flared. “Then will you please go to the call room, and get some sleep.”
“Okay…but I really need to study and—”
“Fine.” Frank interjected, getting to his feet as he slid the textbook beneath his arm. “We will bring this monstrosity with us.”
Mel hesitantly stood. “W-with us? To the call room?”
“Yes. Us. Because I’m not convinced you’ll actually go there if I don’t lock you in there myself. Let’s go.”
Frank strode over to the breakroom door and swung it open, gesturing for Mel to exit. Slowly, she obeyed.
This yoyo of intensity was typical for Frank. One moment, it felt suffocating between them, and the next, he was back to being her ‘closest work friend Dr. Langdon.’ Mel only wished she knew what to prepare herself for each time she saw him. Would breathing his air feel impossibly stifling? Or would she be able to relax behind their thin veil of friendship? Curiosity gnawed at her, and she was desperate to know what was on the other side.
Mel followed him down the hallway. Coworkers paid them no mind as they passed—just another night of Dr. King being her mentor's dutiful shadow. As they passed the nurses station, Frank raised a chin in Shen’s direction, holding up Mel’s textbook.
“Dr. King needs a quiet place to study. We’ll be in the call room.”
Mel parted her lips to speak. To deny it. But if Frank was being open about them going there together, then surely he didn’t plan to—no. Of course not. Sleep deprivation was muddying her reasoning, that was all.
“What if I need you?” Shen asked, eyeing them with a raised brow.
“Don’t.”
Shen laughed at that, but Mel didn’t miss the sternness in Frank's expression. It made her tense, and when he opened the door to the call room for them, she was frozen for a moment. The lamplight was too dim, obscuring the other side of the threshold.
“It’s so dark,” she laughed hesitantly, forcing herself to slip past him into the room. “I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to read in here.”
Frank shrugged. “Then it’s a good thing you won’t be reading.”
The door clicked shut behind him, silencing the noise of the department. Mel wasn’t sure another place existed in the hospital that felt as quiet and secluded as the room around them. The only furniture was a desk and chair in one corner, opposite a small bed.
“But I thought you said we came in here to study?” she asked, inching toward the desk.
“We did. Where did you leave off?”
“Um.” Mel picked idly at her nails. “The muscular anatomy of the forearm.”
Frank hummed a curious sound, strolling over to the bed and letting the textbook fall open on top of it. He fingered through the pages, squinting until he found the one Mel had been using as a pillow. Then faced her, extending his left arm out between them.
“Which muscle?”
Mel’s heart raced as her eyes fell to Frank’s arm, palm up and waiting. She swallowed.
“The pronator quadratus,” she said timidly. “The muscle that rotates the palm downward.”
Frank mimicked her words, slowly turning his hand so his palm faced the floor. Automatically, her eyes landed on his fourth finger—no ring again. Twelve shifts in a row without it. Not that she’d been counting.
“Good job. And which muscle supinates the palm?”
She began to breathe a bit easier, focusing on the anatomy. “Well that’s a bit of a trick question—it isn’t just one muscle. It’s two: the biceps brachii and the supinator muscle.”
“Show me,” he said, gesturing his arm toward her. Mel felt her heart still.
“S–show you? What do you mean?”
A grin tugged at Frank’s lips. “No better way to study anatomy than hands on. You have a willing subject here.”
If she wouldn’t look crazy for doing it, Mel would have pinched herself again. Because there was no conceivable way that Frank was actually, truly, standing in front of her in a dimly lit call room, asking her to touch him.
“C’mon, Mel. Take advantage.”
She forced closed her mouth, which had just fallen open to the floor. “Right. Okay—uh.”
It felt like her hand was wading through water as she cautiously reached toward him, as if, at any second, he’d yank his arm away and take it all back. But when her fingertips reached the top of his hand, he didn’t move. Her eyes flickered up to his face, and he nodded—slow, small, easy to miss if Mel weren’t waiting with bated breath for his instruction.
She held his gaze as her fingertips traced up his forearm, pressing two of them on the muscle just beside his elbow.
“There,” Mel murmured. “That’s your supinator muscle. And the biceps brachii is here…” her fingers had made their way to his bicep, which flexed slightly beneath her touch. “Together, they supinate the palm.”
“You did it without even looking,” Frank said with a twitch of a grin. “Good girl.”
She went to pull her hand away—This is too much. What on earth is going on?—but Frank reached over, placing his right hand over hers, halting her there on his upper arm.
“Keep going. What muscle is above that?”
“Uh.”
This was easy: deltoid. But the answer escaped her as he moved closer, so close now that she could smell the soap he used, or maybe it was his deodorant. Either way, she knew that smell. Frank. Sometimes when they were side-by-side in a room, she’d catch a whiff. And Mel had told herself it was simple curiosity that had made her smell every deodorant in the men’s aisle of the grocery store, searching for it. Old Spice: Timber, she’d decided.
Frank guided Mel’s arm upward, toward his shoulder. “C’mon. You know this one.”
“Yes. Sorry,” she blurted. “Deltoid.”
“And what does it do?”
“It moves the upper arm—every direction. Out to the side—”
Frank moved his arm outward, and Mel could feel the muscle moving beneath her palm as she continued.
“—backward—”
Frank’s arm went back.
“And forward.”
His left arm moved toward her, fingertips brushing against the hem of her scrub top. She felt him fiddling with the fabric there, and he let his right hand that had been guiding hers fall.
Then Frank asked, “And next would be…?”
“Your trapezius muscle,” Mel answered automatically, hand already moving up over his shoulder. “And here,” her hand was moving of its own volition, exhaustion and the scent of him and the sweltering tension between them taking control. She was holding the side of his neck. “Sternocleidomastoid,” she finally whispered.
He was no longer toying with the fabric of her scrub top. Instead, he’d begun to grip it, tugging her toward him until they were only an inch or so apart. Mel studied his face, searching his expression for guidance on what she was meant to do.
“Chest or back next?” he asked. His expression read: Take advantage.
And so she did.
“Chest.”
Not a moment later, and Frank had peeled off his scrub top, carefully lifting Mel’s hand from his neck, then placing it back there when he was through. He was bare chested before her, and Mel’s eyes finally fell from his face, to the blanket of thick, dark hair. The sight of him made her mouth feel dry.
She went to move her hand, and Frank said, “Use your other hand, and keep that on my neck—I like it there.”
Oh.
Mel licked her lips, moving the hand that had been dangling beside her, and placing it on his chest instead. Beneath her touch, she could feel the heavy tempo of his heart, beating fast and hard. The very same as hers. He was enjoying this just as much, she concluded with elation.
Her hand moved across his chest as she spoke, "Pectoralis major…” then down, to his abdomen, “External oblique…”
Frank shuddered, and Mel’s eyes snapped up to his face again. His eyes widened as he looked down at her, mouth parted, just barely.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Are my hands too cold?”
He shook his head. “No, no. Just been a long time since someone touched me like this.”
Someone. So they were going to avoid the elephant in the room. Got it.
“How long?”
The question had escaped before Mel could consider that it was probably none of her business. But he’d been the one to bring it up. And she was standing there, with one hand on his neck and another on his bare abdomen—probably not the time to be worried about being polite.
Frank answered, “Eleven months.”
“Oh.” A beat. “I’ve never touched anyone like this before.”
“Never?” The question wasn’t chastizing, only curious.
Mel shook her head. “Never.”
“Has anyone ever touched you before?”
It was quickly becoming a conversation that Mel never imagined she’d be having with Frank at 1:37 AM in the call room of the E.D., but as she’d learned many times in life (and especially that night), sometimes the unpredictable was just that. What surprised her most, however, was how easy of a time she was having being truthful.
“Not how I wanted.”
Mel could see a shift in Frank’s expression, a darkening of his gaze. “How do you want to be touched, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. Her stomach flipped.
“Like this,” she admitted, flexing her hands on him.
Mel saw his hand moving in her periphery. It came up to her neck, at first as a gentle hold with his thumb tucked under her chin. Then his fingers moved back, and she could feel the tips of them tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck. The touch sent a tingling down her body. She could feel every millimeter of connection. She savored it, squeezing her eyes closed, breathing him in.
Then she felt Frank’s other hand on the hem of her scrub top again. Only that time, he didn’t pull her closer. Instead, his hand slipped below the fabric, and he tugged up the undershirt that was tucked into the waistband of her scrubs, allowing him access to her stomach. She shivered.
“Your fingers are a little cold,” Mel confessed with a breathy laugh.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head firmly. Never, ever did she want him to stop. And mercifully, he continued his exploration of her, fingertips grazing over her stomach and up to her chest, ducking just below the edge of her sports bra. For a moment she considered that she maybe should have worn something a bit sexier, but really, how would she have ever known this is how the night would progress? Frank sure didn’t seem to mind. His hand was below her sports bra, flat on the space between her breasts.
Mel wondered if he was meant to be touching her actual breasts, maybe squeezing them like she’d seen in porn and read about in romance novels and online, but he just kept his hand there. Right on the center of her chest.
She finally peeked an eye open at him, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore. His own eyes were closed, and his nostrils flared as he took slow, deep breaths. For some reason, it coaxed Mel to move her hand upward again, and she placed it in the same spot where his rested on her. They stood there for a while, the both of them breathing slowly, with their hands mirrored on the other.
Eventually, Mel prompted, “Frank?”
“Hmm?”
“Is this why you wanted to come in here with me?”
His eyes blinked open, brows pulling together a bit. “We came in here to study.”
“Well I know but this… doesn’t feel like studying.”
He was grinning. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t think it matters, do you?”
Mel wasn’t sure how she could argue that logic, so she didn’t.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think it matters.” His eyes were drifting closed again, and she quickly added, “But do you think maybe we should…?”
Frank was looking at her fully again, patient as she got stuck on the question she was terrified to ask. She didn’t want to be presumptuous, but his hand was under her sports bra, which made that feel like a moot point.
“I just mean—should we, um. Study… anything else?”
His grin was widening, and he huffed a small laugh. “Ah. Would you like to continue the anatomy lesson?”
Mel nodded. “Yes. Please.”
“Alright. What would you like to review next?”
“Um.”
Frank cocked his head curiously at her.
“Everything,” she muttered quickly.
He nodded proudly, smiling ear to ear. “Very thorough, Mel. I like it. By all means, let’s make damn sure you pass those boards.”
To her disappointment, Frank stepped back, releasing his touch on her. Mel dropped her hands and frowned.
“Are you pouting?” he asked with a chuckle.
She shook her head quickly, blushing. “N-no. I–”
“I’m only taking my clothes off, Mel. I promise my hands will be on you again in just a minute.”
“Oh.”
And then to her delight, Frank began untying the waist of his scrub pants. He hooked his thumb beneath the waistband, and pulled them down until they were in a pool around his ankles. Then he kicked them to the side along with his shoes. Mel’s eyes traced him up and down automatically as he stood back up, brows rising when she saw the large bulge in the front of his navy boxer briefs. Her eyes snapped back up to his face.
“Sorry,” he shrugged, glancing down at his very obvious erection. “Like I said, it’s been a while.”
Mel put her hands up and spoke quickly. “Oh! That’s okay! It’s a perfectly natural response to being touched intimately by someone.”
Frank was chuckling again. “Thanks. Did you learn that in your textbook?”
The blush on Mel’s face only deepened. “Well not that one, but—”
“Come here.”
Frank was holding out his arm to her, expression softening as he waited for her to take his hand. Mel stepped forward, sliding her palm against his, as he tangled their fingers together. Then pulled her close to him again. That time, instead of his hand going to her neck, it went to her check, and she exhaled into the touch.
“Have you ever thought about this happening between us before?” he asked quietly.
“Not this exact scenario, no.”
He was biting back the size of his smile. “But there have been scenarios?”
She nodded, and Frank moved her hand that he was holding up, guiding it to lay against his cheek. Mel could feel the friction of stubble on her palm, and just as she’d suspected: she loved it.
“What happens next?” Frank asked. “In your scenarios.”
She considered, then decided to continue on with being truthful. It had been working out for her so far.
“Um. Well by now you’ve kissed me.”
He barked a laugh. “Well I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
Then he leaned forward, brushing his lips delicately over hers. It bumped their chins together a bit, and Mel could feel the scratchy stubble there too. She relished in every sensation. The friction juxtaposed to the featherlight kiss Frank planted on her lips. It was hesitant, as if he were asking her permission. Mel’s answer was to tilt her chin up, and press their mouths together further. Frank must have liked it, because he began to kiss her harder—more fervently.
Kissing Frank wasn’t like Mel had imagined, because she’d stood no chance at imagining something so magnificent. His fingers were softly gripping her hair again, pulling bits loose from her braid in the process. And his tongue, the one Mel had watched trace across his own lips hundreds of times, was now coaxing open hers. She parted her mouth, and he pushed forward, meeting her tongue in the middle.
Mel had no idea if what she was doing was correct; she’d never kissed anyone with tongue before. But Frank certainly seemed the expert, so she followed his lead. And when he began letting out breathy moans against her open mouth, Mel decided, with glee, that she must be doing something right.
Her mission then became finding other ways to get a response from him. She put a hand to his abdomen again, remembering how that had made him shudder before. That time, he let out a throaty sound, somewhere between a growl and a plea. When she pressed her body forward, so they were flush against each other, he tugged harder at her hair—nearly making her yelp.
This back and forth made Mel feel like they were on a level playing field, like her touch had just as much power to make him come undone. It was euphoric. She wondered if this was what it felt like to do drugs. Maybe someday she would ask him.
“Take off your shirt,” he muttered against her lips. “I need to see you.”
Mel obeyed, breaking their connection so she could tug off her scrub top and undershirt. The cool air of the room hit her bare skin, and she shivered, suddenly feeling overexposed. Her arms crossed over her middle, but Frank closed the distance between them again, guiding her hands away. As his eyes traced her up and down, he let out a long exhale through flared nostrils. Then he locked his gaze onto her.
“This too,” he said, hooking his finger under the strap of her sports bra, guiding it off her shoulder. He did the same to the other side, and Mel looped her arms through them, allowing him to yank it down until it was bunched around her middle.
Frank’s jaw flexed as he looked down at her breasts, full with perked nipples from the cold air.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Mel was the one to go in for the kiss then. Their mouths crashed together again, and Frank’s lips began to explore beyond her own, to the corner of her mouth, then the side of her jaw, and finally the base of her ear. He had one hand on her breast, palming it gently, as the other guided her head to the side, exposing her neck to him. He kissed and tenderly sucked his way down the length, and back up again.
There were so many new sensations, and Mel couldn’t help but whimper at his touch. And when his mouth made its way to her ear, tongue circling the shell, hot and wet and lovely, she gasped a moan.
Frank’s lips were on hers again as he guided her back toward the bed and down onto the mattress, sending the Gray’s Anatomy textbook thudding to the floor. Mel was on her back, propped up a bit on her elbows as she gazed up at him. He was eyeing her very seriously. It was a hungry expression Mel had never seen before.
“If at any point you want me to stop, tell me. Okay?”
Mel nodded in understanding, though she was feeling much less confident now that she was lying there on the bed, waiting for him. She had no idea how to pleasure anyone but herself.
“I don’t…” she swallowed. “Will you tell me if I do something wrong?”
“Mel, baby, you don’t need to do anything else except lay there and let me make you feel good, okay?”
His voice was impossibly gentle and patient, and it caused Mel’s heart to flutter a bit in her chest. A blazing heat also spread across her body and down between her legs, to that spot she’d imagined Frank touching so many times before.
“Okay,” she whispered, blushing up at him.
“Scoot to the edge of the bed.”
Mel took the hand Frank offered her, and he helped her to shimmy herself so she was propped up horizontally across the bed, with her legs over the edge. Frank squatted down and undid the laces of her purple sneakers, setting them to the side before reaching up to the band of her pants, and tugging them off of her. Then he pulled the sports bra that was still circling her middle up and over her head, leaving her in just a pair of striped underwear and socks covered in little horses.
“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he said. Mel let her thighs fall open, eyes widening as Frank got down onto his knees in front of her, right between her legs. His pointer finger circled above her knee, sending goosebumps over her skin as he continued, “I’m going to be honest with you—this is my fucking favorite thing in the world.”
“What is?” Mel asked, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Making someone cum with my mouth. Has anyone ever done that to you?”
“N-no,” she admitted softly.
“Have you ever been fingered?”
“No. Well. Er—only mine.”
“Have you had sex before?”
She shook her head, overcome with embarrassment. Of course he’d been able to tell. What was she thinking? They were in no way on equal ground, even with Frank kneeling before her.
He hummed a sound of understanding. “So when you said you’d never been touched how you liked, you meant you’d never been touched at all.”
Mel’s eyes fell, and Frank gripped her chin, guiding her face back so she was looking at him again.
“Please don’t feel embarrassed. I only want to know because I don’t want to assume, and then do something that you aren’t comfortable with. Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“But fuck, I think you look so ridiculously sexy laying there, and I’m dying to make you feel good. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered. Mel was dying for it too, and had been for a long time. Pretty much since the day they met, if she were being honest with herself.
Frank grinned, letting go of her chin. “Then this is the part where you get to teach me. If I do something that you like, I want you to let me know. However your body tells you to. And when I’m through—hopefully you’ll be able to get some sleep.”
The finger that had been circling above her knee began to trace lazily up her thigh. The higher it went, the quicker Mel’s breathing, until he was brushing over the skin just below her underwear line. She gasped as her clit began tingling with arousal, and she could feel a growing wetness against her panties.
“You liked that,” he muttered, looking pleased as his other finger swiped over the damp spot. It made her twitch, her hips rocking forward automatically, seeking more resistance.
Frank understood her need, and began circling the fabric over her clit with his fingers. It would have been enough, more than, for Mel to cum. But then his fingers hooked under the fabric, pulling it to the side and exposing her to him fully.
“Fuck,” he breathed, staring at her pussy with a satisfied smile. “You’re already so wet for me.”
His eyes flickered up to her again, and she could see his pupils blown wide with desire, expression darkened and intense again. The fingers that had been playing with her clit above her underwear found it again, circling and flicking, this way and that, as Frank studied Mel’s every reaction. She was already so wound up, nearly exploding with desire, and it only took one short bit of relentless back and forth on her clit for Mel to be gasping and sputtering with an orgasm.
Mel gripped desperately at the fabric, trying to pull away from the overwhelming sensation of his touch.
“Breathe, baby,” Frank instructed. “Breathe through it, don’t run away from me.”
“B–but I. I can’t. It’s too—”
He slowed his fingers a bit, and Mel let out a heavy exhale.
“Keep breathing, beautiful. That won’t be your last one.”
She blinked rapidly, looking back at him. He licked his lips, and then his tongue replaced his fingers.
“Oh!”
It was impossibly wet—Frank’s circling, lapping tongue mixed with the slickness of her orgasm, but that only made it all the more better. He was able to turn and coax her clit in a way Mel had never experienced before. It was mind numbing. And when he let the tip of his finger slip into her entrance, her knees began to shake, toes curling.
Mel fell back against the bed. She couldn’t hold herself up anymore as Frank’s tongue worked her clit and his finger slid in and out of her, hooking to press on a spot that had her hips bucking. She began to roll them instinctively. Following the path led by her pleasure, not caring that she was rubbing herself all over Frank’s face in the process. If anything, he seemed to be absolutely loving it, moaning into her pussy as worked herself against him. He reached a hand up, cupping and squeezing one of her breasts.
Clipped phrases left her lips: “God—shit. Frank. God.”
There was certainly nothing holy about the way Mel clutched at fistfull of Frank’s hair, pressing his face further into her as her body took over, begging for another release. She was so close.
He took her clit between his lips, sucking gently, then murmured, “Breathe, baby.”
Mel couldn’t do anything except twist her feet and reach desperately for anything to hold onto as she rode another wave of pleasure. Frank was ruthless. Taunting and taunting and pushing and pushing, until she was biting at a fist to stifle her moans. She tried to breathe through the orgasm—to listen—but it was impossible. Her feet pushed against the ground in an attempt to get away from it all. But Frank’s hand moved from her breast to one of her hips, halting her.
Holy shit. He was going to push her for a third.
Mel whimpered as he released a bit of pressure on her clit, giving her a brief second to catch her bearings before he was circling it again. He slipped a second finger into her, and began pumping his hand much slower, with a patient, undivided attention.
She hadn’t known it was possible for someone to understand her every twitch and moan, and respond to it in kind. And Mel didn’t know how she would ever make him feel as good as this. But when she glanced down at him and saw the glossiness in his gaze, paired with throaty moans against her pussy, she realized he might be getting just as much pleasure out of this as she was.
Wetness was dripping down her thighs as Frank guided her to her third orgasm. As the pressure built, Mel realized this one might undo her completely.
“F-Frank. I don’t—I don’t think I can—”
“You can do it, baby,” he coaxed against her swollen, tender skin. “Show me how good you are, sweet girl.”
Mel groaned, clawing at the sheets and then Frank’s face and hair as he worked her clit, picking up the tempo of his fingers in response. When she came that time, she was hardly able to make a noise, twitching and groaning as she finished. The pleasure coursed through her in waves, pulsing down her body, between her legs, and around Frank’s fingers. He moved slower and slower, until he slipped his fingers out of her. Then he ran his tongue up and down her pussy, lapping up every last drop of her.
Mel was panting to catch her breath as Frank placed a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh, before sliding her panties back into place. He must have been able to tell that she had no strength left, scooping her legs into his arms, and turning her slowly so she was lying on her side. An exhausted exhale escaped her lips as she curled into herself, and Mel could hardly keep her eyes open.
As Frank pulled the blanket over her, Mel murmured, “But what about you? This doesn’t seem very fair.”
Her three to Frank’s zero. How would she ever make it up to him?
But Frank only shrugged, wiping a hand at his face, palming away the slickness shining around his mouth. He leaned down and kissed the side of her temple.
“That’s all I needed, sweetheart. I got off on making you feel good.”
“You did?” she asked, peeking open an eye at him. Frank rose to stand and gestured toward the large damp spot at the front of his boxer briefs.
“All you, baby.”
Mel’s eyes became saucers. “But—but I didn’t even touch you. How…?”
“Listening to you moaning for me was all it took.”
Mel was astonished, but she didn’t have the energy to dwell on it. Frank bent down again, bumping the tips of their noses together before kissing her lips; soft and slow, only further lulling her to sleep. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she could hear him rummaging around, getting himself dressed again.
“Can you check on my asthmatic in three?” Mel yawned.
“You got it.”
“And make sure Jan was able to get that CBC on seven?”
She could hear the smile in Frank’s voice. “Anything else, Dr. King?”
“Hmm,” Mel considered. Then she finally asked, “Can we study some more tomorrow night?”
Frank chuckled, lips brushing a final kiss against Mel’s temple. “If you actually do what I say and get some sleep in here, then we might even be able to study again after work.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
The textbook was forgotten on the floor as Frank slipped out of the call room. And with the enticing possibility of a morning study session swimming in her mind, Mel took the best damn nap of her life.