His eyes shift between the two small bottles on the fractured kitchen sink. Why is he even thinking about this? Just fucking pick one. Make a decision. Act. He knows he can, years in the army had him making split second choices, choices that decided lives; the fate of the men around him. Bullets flying everywhere, heat of fire and blood spraying his face, he could choose the right answer, turn the right way, pick the right one to shoot first quicker than he could blink an eye. But right now, two tiny bottles of aftershave sitting in front of him, he can’t seem to make up his damn mind.
Maybe its because of what part of him is leading this decision. He always uses his head. He’s smart, he can think on his feet, he knows how to get out alive, but right now, the pumping rhythm in his chest was telling him what to do, and it took him for a fucking six.
You… you left him dazed and sweaty, like he’d just run a marathon trying to hold your gaze. Getting frustrated at how ridiculous he was being, he shoved both the bottles off the sink, a single swipe of his hand sending them both flying, nearly shattering them.
“Hey! Don’t break those. They were a gift from my wife.” Micro shouts from the control room, and Frank leans down to pick them up, screwing the lid off one bottle blindly and tapping it on his neck. It smells fine, he doesn’t really care, but he hopes its the one you like.
“Which one did she like?” Frank says, coming back into the main room, adjusting his tie. He hadn’t worn a suit like this in years, and as much as the tie felt constricting, and he had definitely filled out these pants more than he remembered, it felt good to be back in one. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he has to swallow hard, memories of the last time he saw himself like this, wearing something like this flooding his brain. He clung to the image of you, the promise of you at whatever fancy fuckin’ restaurant he’d finally made the decision to reserve, and the thoughts disappeared enough to hear a reply.
“Why? You trying to pick up my wife?” Micro spins around in the chair to face him, giving an approving nod at his appearance. Thats good enough for Frank.
“Already did. Remember?” He points at the camera where Micro would have seen him and his wife kissing, and the grumble that comes out of him makes Frank laugh. His phone buzzes on the table, and his smile grows when he sees your name pop up on the screen, telling him your about to leave.
“Get out. Have fun on your big date. Maybe your incredible personality will be enough for her to overlook that haircut.” Micro spun back around, the sarcasm in his voice dripping through the insult, but Frank just laughs again, clicking the keys to the van. If he had a better ride than this, he would have offered to pick you up, done the whole gentleman thing, but you live right above the restaurant, and he had to admit he felt a little embarrassed at the thought of you seeing him roll up in this.
Everything about you made him nervous. In a good way, he thinks. Starting the car and putting his hands on the wheel, he notices how sweaty his palms are. God, he’s acting like a fucking kid. You make him feel like just that, though. A kid, falling in love for the first time again, and thats what it was, for him at least. He’d been in love with you since he’d seen you that first night, taking on two guys with machine guns with nothing but your bare hands and a couple of shards of glass. You took them down with a class and expertise he’d only seen in the mirror, and the way you didn’t back down from him, didn’t question why he was there, just asked him to ‘Get out of your fucking way’.
Sure, maybe not the most romantic of beginnings, but he never had to hide from you, from the start you saw all of him, all the fucked up, ugly parts, and still stuck around, and that meant more to him that he could put in to words. He pulls out of the garage he’s been calling home for the past couple of months, and sends up a prayer he doesn’t somehow fuck up the best thing he’s almost had.
You have tried on every dress you own, but nothing works. Staring at the mess of about 30 dresses you accumulated for tonight specifically, a mix of clothes borrowed from your friends, ones you had worn to some weddings, and a few brand new ones, you suddenly felt like everything made you look like you were wearing a paper bag. You were a mess ever since he asked you out, nearly vomiting from nerves just hours before.
You have never acted like this, your life was one full of near death experiences, but tonight seemed like the most daunting one. Frank was just perfect, and you were so scared you were going to say something dumb, do something stupid, your hands were shaking and your stomach flipping like a rollercoaster. Ever since you had met him, there had been this underlying, flirty chemistry between you, but you knew his past and he knew yours, both of you never making a move until a week ago.
* * * * flashback * * * *
It was the dead of night, and you were both holed up on the top of a roof, Frank staring down the line of his sniper, you eating some cold Chinese food that lost all its heat the minute you opened it, exposing it to the increasingly freezing wind. It picked up, making your hair fly wildly behind your head.
“Ten bucks you dont make this shot.” You said into the dark, only catching the glint of a smile on Franks face.
“No faith.” He mumbles, pushing his face hard into the lens of the sniper, and you could see the mark it was going to leave. Watching him shoot always left you in awe, but something was different about tonight, the way his mouth twitched as his focus fell around him like a shield, blocking everything out but him and his target. You found yourself wishing he would focus that hard on you, and as if he was reading your mind, he spoke. “Wanna make it interesting?”
“Whats not interesting about ten bucks?” You smile, and he shifts his body a little, not looking at you.
“Fine. Ten bucks, but I want something else if I win.” Your head tilts, and he still doesn’t take his eyes off the target.
“Alright, big guy. Let’s hear it.”
“A date.” The wind whistles through your ears and you think you must of misheard him, but the physical reaction your body has, blood rushing to your head and your heartbeat so hard it moves your chest makes you think you didn’t.
“A date.” He makes a little ‘mhmm’ sound, moving the snipers stand to get a better angle.
“What kind of date?” You ask, so soft your not sure if he caught it.
“A date. You in a pretty dress, I’ll wear a suit. Nice restaurant, walk in the park. The whole nine yards.” His voice is so deep, so sure of what he wants. Thankfully he isn’t looking at you, because your giant grin would give away how long you had been waiting him to ask.
“Thats what you want?” You honestly just want to hear him say it again, and he obliges.
“Thats what I want. A real date. No cheap take out food, no missions, none of that shit. Just you n’ me.” You have to turn away, bite your lip, dig your fingernails into your palm just to control yourself enough to reply.
“Make the shot, then.”
He fires as soon as you say it, and even you can see he made it flawlessly, straight through the eye as the body falls to the ground, your heart doing the opposite.
* * * * end of flashback * * * *
Finally, you just close your eyes and pick a damn dress, landing on a long emerald green one, shiny material reflecting under the lights in your room. You hold it against your hand and you notice how well the colour compliments your skin, and you hope its enough to keep his attention on you. Carefully sliding it over your already done hair and makeup, you quickly shove on some plain shoes that were covered by the dress anyways, and as you are flicking through some earring choices, you hear the beep of your phone and your heart stops, knowing who it is. He’s waiting down the bottom of your apartment building, he refused to let you walk to the restaurant alone, even if it was a street away. You live on a pretty fancy block, so the whole area was full of nice places to eat, not that you could afford to eat there, only getting the apartment in the inheritance your parents left you.
Choosing some small gold hoops, you grab your phone and your clutch. You go to leave, but stop before you open it. Taking a deep breath, you try to convince yourself this is really happening. You have no idea where this night is going to go, but you know where ever Frank is, thats where you want to be. You psych yourself up like your about to go on one of your missions, and walk out of your apartment, taking the elevator down to the main lobby where you know he’s waiting.
Frank is a mess. He’s pacing a little, and the door guy is giving him a side eye so intense Frank is about a second away from knocking his fucking lights out. That is, until, everything melts away when you step out of that elevator, looking like something out of his dreams. He has to clench his jaw otherwise it would be hanging open, and he’s kicking himself because how did he not notice you hiding a body like that? He doesn’t know that name of that colour your wearing but its his new favourite, and he isn’t shy about the way his eyes scan your body, passing down over your hips and stopping to admire the sliver of skin that shows when you take a step, the slit in your dress practically calling his name. You stop in front of him, and he can’t find words. He is still taking in the sight of you, your body, every curve accented and soft and fucking gorgeous, and it’s only when he raises his head that he finds your eyes, still as pretty as he remembered. He swallows, and a small smile comes across your face.
“Hi.” You say softly, you two so close that its all you allow. Frank doesn’t reply, just lets his eyes drop down your body again. You feel like he can see through you, and you have never seen the look that glazes his eyes now. You hope thats a good thing. You aren’t exactly shy about the way you check him out either. He looks damn good in a suit, the pants tight and fitted, making his legs seem bigger than you remember. He towers over you and your face is in front of his tie, the tight collar filling your vision and imagination. Christ, you need to get a hold of yourself; the date hasn’t even started and your already picturing him naked.
“You look..” he shakes his head and your smile grows. “You look like an angel.” Your mouth opens at his compliment, breath shaking as you exhale. You are reminded why he makes you so nervous, and you giggle under the pressure.
“You shaved.” You imagine him in the bathroom, carving away the stubble that you saw him with last, just for you. It takes a second, but he smiles and starts laughing with you.
“I did.” He offers you his arm and you take it way too quickly to be playing it cool, walking out into the night, head in the clouds and eyes on him.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
“Are you supposed to drink red or white wine with fish?” You peer over at Frank from your menu, and you are relived to see he looks just as confused as you.
“When it costs this much, you drink whatever the hell you want.” You raise the menu over your face to hide your laugh, but he doesn’t, and you relish in the fact that you get to see it. His smile changes his whole face, and it lights up his eyes in a way you haven’t had the chance to admire before tonight. Usually when you see him his face is either covered in blood or hidden in the dark, but under the orange lights of the restaurant, you can stare at him as much as you want. The waiter comes over to take your order, and you dont miss how respectful Frank is to him, smiling at him and handing over the menu, and you are so lost in your admiration that you miss the waiter asking you for your choice.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t catch that. What was the question?” They were both looking at you, and even thought the waiter was considerable older than Frank, they looked like they had already become friends, sharing a knowing look and you squint at Frank, suspicious.
“I think the lady got a bit distracted. Is that right, sweetheart?” His leg touches yours under the table and your muscles seize in surprise, but they dont move away. You just nod and smile, and the waiter returns it.
“Your date has already ordered for you, but I was just asking for the wine preference. House red or white?” You look at Frank, who is no help, his eyes currently caught somewhere between your face and your chest. You remember what he said earlier, and decide to go out on a limb.
“Do you have anything… pink?” You look up to the waiter, who just nods, answering in a ‘I know just the thing’ kind of smile and walks away. You look at Frank again, whos eyes have finally found your face again.
“What?”
“Nothing. Good choice.” You catch the smirk he tries to hide under his hand, and you wish you were closer. Maybe to swat at him for laughing, and maybe to do something else.
“Hey! You said to get whatever I want, and what I want is pink, sugary wine.”He laughs now, eyes sparkling. “You will be eating your words when you try it.”
“I have. Its good shit, I wasn’t lying.”
“Since when did the Frank Castle drink pink moscato in his spare time? I would have picked you for a ‘whiskey from the bottle, no ice ‘cause I’m tough’ kind of guy.” The waiter returns, filling your glasses with the pretty pink liquid, and Frank hands the first glass to you, your fingers brushing his when you take it, and the fire his accidental touch leaves behind makes your heart ache. He raises his own glass, and replies before taking a sip of his own.
“Guess you dont know everything then, huh?” You squint at him again and drink your own glass, the alcohol simmering in your empty stomach, and you aren’t sure if the blush that spreads over your cheeks is from the alcohol or the way Frank leans back in his chair and looks at you, assessing.
You both talk about your days, Frank making fun of the way you still eat fruit loops for breakfast every morning, and you being genuinely shocked that he spent three hours cleaning guns, as if anyone would need to spend that long on cleaning a weapon. Conversation flows as naturally as it always does, and the nerves begin to settle under the pink wine in your stomach. This is how it feels to be with him, like its the most natural thing in the world, and you begin to scare yourself by how much you are leaning on this working out. It was a bet to him, after all. Wasn’t it?
Frank can’t believe his luck. He’s sitting in the fanciest restaurant he’s ever been in, eating a giant lobster that probably cost more than his watch, and the attention of the prettiest girl in the room is on him. You had taken his breath away when he saw you, and he instantly felt like he didn’t measure up, but the way your eyes raked him, the way you were so lost in him you didn’t even order for yourself, wrapped up in whatever thoughts your imagination stirred up made his ego soar.
The things he would do to get inside that head, to see what you were thinking about him. About this. He only bet you this night because he had no other idea how to break that weird wall he’d built up between you. The night wasn’t even over, and he’s finding himself worried about it being over, and never getting to take you out again, missing the chance to have his hands on you again, be so close he could smell your perfume, feel the heat of your breath on his cheek when you spoke. It set him alight, made his blood burn in his veins, rushing and sparking. He stares up at you, digging in to your meal, and he can’t help it.
“I meant it, before. You look damn beautiful in that dress.” You nearly choke on the food you were swallowing, the compliment feeling so much more intimate, packing hundreds of nights with words left unsaid behind it.
“You look good, too. Never seen you in a suit before.” You smile, taking a big gulp of your drink, Frank filling up your glass attentively when you finish.
“Job doesn’t really call for it.” You cant help the laugh that tumbles out of your mouth, and a slightly proud smile washes over Frank. “Wouldn’t mind if you wore that dress next time, though.” Your eyes wash over with surprise and a little bit of something else, the leg Frank has stretched out under the table moves to slide against the outside of your thigh, and you suppress the shudder his simple touch draws from you.
“Maybe I will.” You say from behind your wine glass, biting you lip, and Frank opens his mouth, but is interrupted by the waiter taking your empty plates.
“Are you planning on ordering a dessert?” He asks as he stacks the plates, and Frank looks at you, letting you take the lead.
“Yes, please. What do you have?” You grin up at the waiter and he leans down, hiding his face from Frank.
Frank is now the one left in the dark, and as the waiter gets a little closer, Franks leg instinctively slides closer to you. He is not jealous, thats ridiculous. You weren’t even his, this was one date, but God how he wanted you to be. Then he wouldn’t have to push down the urge to grab your hand, thread his fingers between your own, kiss you nice and slow over the table and make everyone here know you were with him and him alone. The waiter leaves and Franks eyes follow him, making sure the smile on his face was only a professional one.
Franks legs have one of yours between them, and every time he pulls his chair in a bit or slides down to get comfortable, he inches tortuously close to you, and you know you wont get what you desperately want here, or maybe at all. Part of you wants to take it slow, if you get to take it at all, but another part thinks both of you have waited long enough, fought hard enough that you shouldn’t deny either one of you what you want any longer. It doesn’t help that his tie has come a little loose, sliding to the right and you can now see the trail of buttons down his dress shirt, every inhale making a little bit of skin show, taunting you.
The giant Sunday bowel lands in between you, and when you look up at the waiter and smile, he gives you a little wink, and you notice he only left one spoon. Looking back at Frank, you can tell he’s picked up on it too, ever the observer. He picks up the spoon, swirling it around and picking up some of the ice cream and chocolate sauce. You lean over the table and so does he, getting as close as possible with the barrier in between you.
“Tell me how it tastes.” He says, his voice low in his throat as he brings the spoon towards your lips. Opening your mouth you welcome the sweet taste, the cold ice cream and warm chocolate sauce a heavenly mix in your mouth, and you hum in approval, closing your eyes and hollowing your cheeks, making sure you get every drop.
Frank is going to give that fucking waiter his entire wallet as a tip. Watching you as your lips wrap around the spoon, taking it a little deeper than you probably need to, you put on a show for him as you take the first bite, and his pants become tighter than he thought possible.
“So fucking good, Frank.” You take the spoon back into your mouth and get the rest of the ice cream. He is whipped now, and when a tiny moan escapes the back of your throat he nearly shoves the table out from between you and takes you on the floor. You pull back, reaching for it and scooping up the same amount.
“Your turn.” Frank opens his mouth, but he doesn’t take his time, doesn’t close his eyes to enjoy the taste. No, he keeps his eyes on you, making sure you see how his tongue flicks out and takes the spoon in his mouth. He swallows, and with expert precision he cleans the spoon, within seconds letting it drop out of his mouth, perfectly clean. “Did you even taste it?”
“Sweet.” He says, but his eyes aren’t on the ice cream. You take a big scoop and keep your eyes on him as you eat it, letting the ice cool down the rush of heat his eyes send into you. A little bit of melted ice cream falls form the corner of your mouth, and Frank catches your chin in his hand, so fast, like he was waiting for it.
Swiping a thumb up and over your mouth, he takes the spoon out of your mouth and his thumb continues across, cleaning your lips of any scarce part of mess. You think you might pass out, but when his hand leaves you and he takes his thumb into his own mouth, sucking the taste of the ice cream and you onto his tongue, you’re pretty sure you actually do pass out.
“Like I said. Sweet.” he smiles innocently and scoops up some more ice cream, putting it back to your mouth, and you open immediately. “You like that?” Nodding, your thighs go to squeeze together but you forget that his leg is already between your own, and instinctively he reacts by using his other leg to keep the pressure on. No one can see under the table, so when one of his hands brushes against your bare knee, hardly even touching you, you practically pant under the mouthful of ice cream he feeds you.
Frank can’t help it, he thinks he will tear this restaurant apart if he doesn’t touch you, any part of you in that moment. He lets the pads of his calloused fingers reach out and touch the soft skin just above your knee, and he can feel himself slowly losing that composure he’s worked all night to keep together. Removing the spoon from your mouth again, your eyes flutter open and find him, your cheeks blushing red.
You both stare at each other, Frank finishing the last of his wine as he signals for the waiter. You reach for your bag, ready to pay at least some of this extremely expensive bill and get out of here, at least get yourself some fresh air so you can focus on the rest of the night, but when you look up, Frank has already signed the receipt.
“Frank. I could have paid, really. You didn’t have to…” His eyebrows cross in confusion.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He shrugs him off, and as you thank him, you look over seeing he left a very large tip, smiling as he writes a little ‘thank you’ on the bill. Frank gets up and offers you a hand which you take and dont let go of, letting your fingers intertwine.
Walking out of the restaurant, you have no idea where you’re going but you don’t care, you would walk all the way across New York if it meant Frank would keep holding your hand.
“I wanna show you somethin’, okay?” He murmurs in your ear, the hot kiss of his words making you shiver, realising how cold you are. Without saying anything he slides off his jacket and, unlinking your hands he slides it over you, wrapping his strong arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You slide your arm around him, and you feel his muscles flex under your touch just for a second, and then relax. He kisses the top of your head and you hide your face in his shirt. This was so different than any other night you’ve spent together, but some how it feels so much better, it feels right.
Frank feels at peace. It takes a lot for him to feel relaxed, to even fall asleep these days, but right now, with your arms wrapped around each other, nothing has made him this mellow in a long fucking time. Rounding a corner, the noise of the street disappears, the trickling of the river you finally reach the only sound.
“Holy shit.” You breath, taking in the sight in front of you. You dont know how deep into the park you are, and you had to go through a gate that Frank locked behind you to find it, but the river looks clean, the stars reflecting perfectly in its still water, ripples from the tiny waterfall at the peak the only disturbance. You dont realise Frank had stepped away from you until he comes back, his arms spinning you around to face him and pulling you against his chest.
“Hi.” You dont know what else to say, and he exhales and that famous side smile grows on his face. “This was worth the ten bucks I lost.”
“Yeah?” You nod, and he laughs.
“I think I might bet you more often.” Testing the statement, you want to see how he reacts. Is that all this is to him? The way his body reacts tells you it might be more, but he’s so damn hard to read, you need to hear him say it.
“You don’t have to bet me to take you out, sweetheart.” There it is. The air changes, and you dont feel cold anymore. You slide his jacket off your shoulders and it hits the ground behind you, his hands coming up over your shoulders, ghosting your collarbones, giving you goosebumps.
“No? What should I do, then?” Your voice shakes when you ask, because one of his hands is on the side of your neck and his head starts to dip, the promise of his mouth on you makes your core tighten.
“You just have to ask. I’ll do whatever you ask.” His face drags away from your neck, and you nearly whimper at the loss of the almost touch. He looks at you, its so overwhelming and suffocating and you want to drown in what you feel.
Your hands come up and play with his tie, loosening it a bit more, and Frank swallows. He’s waiting for you, like he did all night, like he always does. Even on a mission he lets you set the pace, him taking care of anything you cant handle, but you want to handle this, you want this.
“Please, Frank.” His hand moves from your neck to your face and forces you to look up at him.
“Please what? Whatever you want, sweetheart. Say the words.” Your eyes close because you dont think you can look at him and say it.
“Kiss m-” He crashes against you and the wind leaves you in the best way, tasting him just as desperate as you are. He tastes like pink wine and chocolate; you cant get enough of it. Its fast paced and dizzying, and he takes a couple of steps forward, lifting you off the ground with one arm, just so you dont have to walk yourself, and stops when he presses you against the tree. The bark digs into your back a little but you dont care, the hand on your hip sliding up your body, exploring while his tongue does the same in your mouth is enough to cover the pain.
Frank is lost. Lost in the taste of you, the feeling of that fucking dress over your body. The only thing stopping him from tearing it to pieces is the fact that he wants you to wear it everywhere, all the time. His hands grip and pull at you and when they slip around to find your ass, the moan that you whisper into his mouth makes his head spin. The cold air seemingly doesn’t hit either of you, panting hot air makes little clouds of fog in between you when you finally tear yourselves away from each other long enough to get a breath in.
His hands dont stop touching you, the one on your ass slides up your back, pulling you off the tree so you are pressed flush against him. Your hands slide down from his neck and do a little exploring of your own, dragging down those abs that you’ve dreamt about touching for months. Your fingers feel every ridge and bump through his dress shirt, and you close your eyes, imaging whats underneath.
“You have any idea how many times I imagined your hands on me?” You didn’t realise Franks reaction to your explorative touch, and when you look up his face is in ruins. His eyebrows are bunched together, eyes closed and his mouth is open slightly, trying to suck air in but he can’t focus on breathing. You love that you have this effect on him, and your hands find his face and kiss him again.
This is slower, more like a conversation that a declaration. You listen to what he wants, his tongue sliding deeper into your mouth and you let him take control, silently desperate for him to overwhelm you. You know how turned on you are by the shiver in your body and how tight your core is, but when his hand finds the skin of your upper thigh, the dampness in between your legs is evident to even you.
Frank feels like he has to tie himself down to take this slow. He wants you to be comfortable, but the sound you make when his hand slips inside your dress, not even touching you makes him bite the inside of his mouth so hard he tastes blood. His face is an open book, every twitch of his mouth a tell of how bad he wants to ruin you for everyone else, make sure there isn’t a night where you dont lay down and think of him, so you are in just as much agony as he is when you aren’t with him. He pulls away from your lips but is quick to find your neck, instantly zoning in on that sweet spot, marking you with soft scrapes of his teeth and tongue, biting and soothing over and over. The hand in between your legs presses on your inner thigh, a silent instruction and you follow, spreading your legs a little wider. He leans you back against the tree and his leg comes between your thighs, your entire heat against him.
“Fucking hell.” You moan out, unable to stop the way your body moves slightly against his leg. He moves closer and takes more of your weight on top of his thigh, only adding to the pressure and relief. You are so turned on you think you might come just from this alone, but its when he starts talking you know you are fucked.
“That feel good, baby?” He purrs into your ear and you moan and nod in response. His hands come to your hips and he moves you, grinding you against him. Sparks explode in your entire body, and your head rolls forward to rest on his shoulder. He grinds you against him again, making you whimper his name, pleasure making your hips jerk on their own.
“This is all I was thinking about in that fuckin’ restaurant, you know that? Wanted to bend you over the table and have you make those pretty little sounds in front of everyone.” He nudges your head up with his own and kisses your mouth again, swallowing every moan with eager force.
“God, F-Frank. Why didn’t you?” You would let him do anything, anything right about now, even if he fucked you in front of a thousand people, you wouldn’t care as long as he was there. This seems to catch him off guard, both of your eyes meeting, his expression slightly less dazed than your own.
“Would you want me to do that? My sweet girl, wanting me to fuck her in front of all those rich assholes. Make them wish they can have you.” You just whisper his name over and over as he drags you against him again. You can feel the pressure in your stomach growing and the dampness of Franks pants increasing, but its still not enough, so you reach your hands out and find his belt, undoing it without dropping his eyes.
“Wanna feel you, too.” You kiss his jaw, then his nose and he nods against your forehead. Your hands dives into his pants, and although there isn’t a lot of room for movement, and your hand is dry, the sound that comes out of Frank is strangled, and his hands push your hips forward, pressing your heat almost directly against his erection.
Its the hottest thing he’s ever seen, you grinding yourself against him, hasty and desperate to wrap your hands around his cock. He loves every fucking second, the slight pain that your soft hand drags up his dry length makes him shake under your touch, and everything in his body contracts and relaxes when your thumb brushes over his tip.
“Fucki- shit. Shit you feel so good. You drive me fuckin’ crazy.” He kisses you everywhere, your face, your neck, forehead, collarbone, anywhere his lips can reach from this angle, like every part of you tastes different and he needs to experience them all, all the time. It sends you spinning under him, and his constant grinding against you paired with the twitch of his cock under your hand pulls you closer, the tightness in your core so close to snapping you think you might cry.
“Frankie, p-please. M’gonna cum, please.” His hands dig into your hips and keep their pressure on his thigh, and your hips start jerking to speed up, simultaneously speeding up your hand on his dick.
“You’re fuckin’ desperate, ‘ts so fucking sweet. Gonna make me cum too, baby?” Your mouth drops open, no longer able to control yourself and your head leans back against the tree, your chest pushing out in Franks eye line.
“Yes! Fuck, need it so bad p-p-” You cant form any more words as Frank attaches his mouth to your tits, biting and sucking, vibrating moans coming from him as you work him in your hand. You go faster, gripping him tighter and trying to reach every part of him you can, and you can feel him tightening under your touch. You look down at him and see the marks he has begun to leave on your cleavage, a bright purple hickey obvious under the soft moonlight. There would be no way to hide what he did, and that thought sends your eyes rolling back in your head.
Frank knows your close, his hands doing all the work as your own does all of his. He doesn’t know where he is finding the strength to stand, your hand feels so soft and perfect against him he never wants you to stop. He kisses you again and cant take it anymore, pulling his leg out from under you and shoving his hand under your dress, sliding two fingers inside of you, thumb drawing slow circles on your clit. You instantly tighten around him, and he curls, hearing your strangled cry as a green light he’s working you just right. He knows he wont last much longer, and wants to make this as fucking perfect for you as possible before he loses himself.
“S’ fuckin’ perfect, baby. Gonna cum with me like a good girl, yeah?” You nod and can only say his name. “Thats it, say my fuckin’ name.”
“Frank! Frank, F-Fran-k!” Whatever he wants you will do, and your entire body is on fire.
“You’re mine. You know that? Mine.” He whispers in your ear and you can hear him struggling to keep it together.
“Yours. I’m yours, Frankie.” You say each others name in unison and you feel him flex under you as you both finally cum at the same time.
Its intense and a feeling so all encompassing that you think you black out for a second, and Frank loses his grip, both of you starting to slide down towards the floor as you struggle to keep your hold on each other. You keep stroking Frank in your hand and he stays inside of you, neither of you wanting this to end. Your hand loses its grip when he hits the floor and smashes his lips to yours, a brutal force that makes you whimper, surrendering to him completely.
He takes your bottom lip between his lips and pulls, making your eyes open only to roll back at the feeling of him. He flips you off the grass and puts you on top of him, both of you panting. He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, eyes on you and breathing hard through his nose.
“Sweet.” He says and your jaw shakes watching him. His hand comes around to the back of your head and pulls you closer, just shy of his mouth. “Your turn.” Then his lips find yours and he makes you taste yourself. Your tongue searches his mouth, wanting to taste the mix of him and you together, the best thing you’ve ever had. His hand comes to your throat, pulling you down onto him harder, and the slight lack of oxygen makes you shiver. That and the freezing grass under your bare shins.
Frank notices and as much as he wants to fuck you right here in his lap, more than he wants anything, he wants to take you home so he can take his time and explore every single curve of that fucking body under that dress.
He presses a final kiss to your lips and stands with you, allowing you to find your feet before doing up his belt. He finds his discarded jacket and hangs it over your shoulders before looking you over, watching you try to smooth out your hair.
“You look so fucking gorgeous, you know that?” His hands smooth out the creases in your dress and pulls it slightly so the slit hangs straight over your leg. While you watch him, its impossible to ignore the giant purple hickey on your left breast, and he doesn’t miss it either. He leans down to kiss it.
“Sorry.” He mumbles against your skin, pressing light kisses back up to your face, where you take his in your hands and shake your head.
“Dont be. I like it.” His eyebrows go up, and he smiles a little.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Want people to know I’m yours.” He groans and presses you against him, and you have a feeling if you dont start walking now you will never leave this park.
You drag him by the hand towards the gate and he takes two steps and catches up to you, swinging his arm lazily around your shoulder. He leans on you as you both walk through the park, walking so much slower than on your way.
“That was a pretty spot.” You break the happy silence you were walking in.
“Hmm.” He bends and mumbles against your shoulder, kissing it.
“How’d you find it?”
“Chased a guy through there once. Held him down in the pond.” You burst out laughing, half in shock. “What?”
“You took me to somewhere you killed a guy on a first date?” You are still laughing, shaking your head at his fucked up logic. He just shrugs.
“He didn’t die there. Went to hospital, died of complications.” You just roll your eyes.
“So romantic.”
“You said first date.” He says and you look up to him. “That mean I’m gonna get a second?” Again you look to the floor, the mere idea making you nervous all over again.
“If you play your cards right.” He clicks his tongue, and then scoops you into his arms, carrying you bridal style through the cascading trees of the park.
He doesn’t need to play anything, you knew there would be a second, a third, and how ever many dates he would take you on. You knew from the moment you saw that twinkle in his eye there was no way you were letting him go.
Frank, on the other hand, knew straight away, and there will never be enough restaurants in the world for the amount of dates he will take you on, but covering New York was pretty good start.