You’re not entirely sure what happened. One moment you’re perfectly content, more than content even, with your current position -bundled in Frank’s lap with your fingers in his hair and his tongue in your mouth. The next, your whole body feels on the verge, like every nerve ending has been frozen and every inch of your skin is being smothered. Your mind is running a mile a minute, trying to rationalise your body’s instinctive defensive reaction in response to the affection you initiated. Maybe it was the way his nose brushed against yours? Or the way he shifted your hips slightly?
Frank notices the stilling of your body almost immediately, and it doesn't matter what set you off -what does matter is the fact you are quickly approaching hyperventilation while curled up on his lap.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
At the shallow breath you take in response to his question, his hands immediately come to rest on your shoulders from where they were situated on the skin of your waist under your shirt.
“You need to talk to me, what’s goin’ on?”
Your efforts of taking in as much oxygen as you can when you feel like your lungs are being crushed finally comes to fruition when you manage to choke out some words vaguely resembling a sentence.
“Sorry, god, sorry, I’m fine, I’m fine.”
From the breathless quality in your voice, you both know that isn’t true, but you don’t think you could explain what you’re feeling even if you tried.
“No, no, none of that, c’mon tell me what’s happening.”
God, the way his voice deepens when it softens makes you want to cry, but you can only shift off his lap and away from his warm hands in an attempt to calm your erratic motions.
You love his hands, the way they’re so much bigger than yours and can cover your whole hips if he splays them out. The roughness that feels like a soothing contrast against you. The warmth they always sear into your skin, even when his touch is fleeting. But right now, your whole body feels too sensitive. Suddenly the comforting size is smothering, suddenly the roughness feels like an abrasion, suddenly the warmth is burning.
Suddenly you can’t take his touch.
The realisation makes you feel a staggering amount of guilt. How could you feel such aversion to the touch of someone you love so deeply?
Frank must see it on your face because he’s settling close to you, but not within touching distance, and that makes the feeling hurt all the more.
“Baby, oh god, I’m so sorry, I don’t-“
He doesn’t shush you -he never does when he knows you need to apologise, even when he feels you don’t have to -he just rests his open hand on the floor between you -an invitation that can easily be ignored if you wish to do so. You don’t, so you take his hand and squeeze in a desperate attempt to convey your feelings without words. You know he would wait patiently for however long it took you to find the ability to explain, but you don’t think you can explain at all. It doesn’t make sense to you, so how could you begin to put it into words for him.
“I’m fine, I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how to explain.”
He hums quietly and your nerves flare up again.
“You don’t know what it was specifically? Just movin’ too much too fast?”
You take a brief moment to thank whatever God is out there that Frank is so good at interpreting the things you can’t find words for. You seriously don’t know how you would cope if he wasn’t so good at being able to communicate when you struggled.
“Hmm, not too much, you know we do stuff like that all the time. I don’t know, it just felt like a massive, nerve-wracking thing this time. And I guess nerves got the better of me.” You sigh frustratedly. “It’s stupid and I don’t even know why, it’s clearly not a big unapproachable thing. We’ve done way worse multiple times and I’ve been fine. Hell, we’ve even done this more than a lot. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Sweetheart, sometimes what you’re feeling doesn’t make sense, that’s just how it is. But you’re feelin’ it, so it isn’t stupid. Y’hear me?”
You’ve lost track of how many times he’s said something similar to you, you shouldn’t dismiss your feelings but sometimes they seem so inconvenient and without reason that it seems like the only option. Backtracking after being emotionally vulnerable always was your worst habit.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to forgive, sweetheart.”
That has you cracking a small smile, curled up with your chin resting on your knees, hand loosely held in one of his.
“I think… I find it hard to speak up when something makes me feel bad.” The quiet murmur comes with all sorts of revelations you can’t even begin to delve into right now.
“Hm, and that’s why you freeze up.”
You nod, tilting your head slightly to look at him for a few moments.
“Can I ask for a kiss?”
“C’mere”
The second after his arms are open, you’re clambering back into his lap and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Then his cheek, then up the length of his nose, and finally on his brow. The smile you get in response is worth all the guilt you just put yourself through. Then the huff of laughter when you rub your nose against his.
“That was more than one kiss.”
“Mmhm, I couldn’t resist.”
“I’ll just have to return the favour.”
It comes out as a question and you smile teasingly before answering.
“I suppose you will.”