Fic: Use Somebody (Someone Like Me)
title: Use Somebody (Someone Like Me)
pairing: Frank/Jamia
rating: NC-17
words: 2500
warning: fairly heavy Dominance/submission, not!pegging (whatever)
summary: Jamia's a tease and Frank's pretty desperate.
disclaimer: Completely untrue. I don't know these people, and if you do, you shouldn't be reading this.
a/n: My first kink_bingo fic for my new card! This one was originally going to be "dirty talk" but I changed it to "begging" about halfway through. Also, I fucking hate that Kings of Leon song but it's on the radio right now and I needed a title. whatever.
Frank was spread out on his back, legs spread wide and feet planted firmly on the bed, Jamia lounging casually between his thighs. She had a bottle of lube in her left hand; her right hand was covered in it. She smeared it all around Frank’s cock, turning his pubic hair into a matted, sticky mess, and all over his ass.
Frank had both hands clenched around the pillow beneath his head, and he was biting his lips to keep from begging. She hadn’t even touched his asshole yet. He could feel the lube sliding down the crease of his thigh. The towel underneath he was lying on was damp and Jamia’s little bottle was almost empty, even though she’d just bought it a day ago.
Jamia leaned to the side and nuzzled the side of her face against Frank’s knee, smirking down at him. Her wet hand slipped and slid and skated over his skin, so light he could barely feel it. She trailed the tip of her index finger up to the head of his cock and Frank’s thighs shook with the effort of not pushing his hips up for more friction.
She made a vaguely disapproving noise in the back of her throat and Frank squeezed his eyes closed for a few seconds, grinding his teeth in concentration.
“You want to beg, don’t you, baby?” she asked silkily. She sounded almost apologetic, but Frank wasn’t fooled; she was still grinning. “You want it so bad you’re willing to beg, aren’t you? But I bet you can’t even get the words out. Hmm? You want to try, baby?”
That wasn’t permission, not yet, so Frank pressed his lips together and glared as best he could.
“Do you even know what to beg for? Do you have any idea the things I want to do to you?” Jamia shook her head and kissed the side of his knee. “Oh, Frankie, begging won’t impress me. I’ve got a plan, and nothing you can say will change my mind. Begging won’t get you anywhere. You don’t even know what you want, baby.”
Frank made a helpless noise and flexed his fingers in the pillowcase a few times. If they were at home, he’d be tied to the bed by his wrists and ankles, unable to move, but here, without the restraints, it was so much harder.
Jamia’s achingly light fingers skirted carefully around his asshole, never quite touching, never pressing hard enough. She turned the bottle upside down and dripped more lube onto Frank’s balls. He didn’t mind the cold, but the feel of it sliding slowly down to his ass was like Chinese water torture. He closed his mouth tight and hummed wordlessly.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Jamia asked. “You want to say something? You want to beg, Frankie? Let me hear it.”
“Oh, god, please, please touch me, please, please, please,” he exploded. His face was flaming hot so he turned his head and tried to hide in the pillow. “Please, I need, I need it, anything, please, just touch me, touch me, touch me…”
She tilted her head and said, mockingly, “I am touching you, Frankie.”
Frank glanced down between his legs and saw that yes, the tips of her fingers were just barely touching his skin, but there was so much lube and he was so overheated he could barely feel it. He watched as she dragged her fingernail up his cock.
“Evil fucking bitch,” he gasped.
“Ah-ah-ah,” she murmured. “You really don’t get this whole ‘begging’ thing, do you, baby? You gotta be nice. You gotta convince me that I should care about what you want. Because I don’t, Frankie. I really don’t give a fuck what you want me to do.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry, please-”
Jamia dug her fingernail into the inside of his thigh. “I don’t want to hear worthless apologies,” she snapped. “I already told you begging will get you nowhere, but you can keep trying if you just want to debase yourself even more than you already have.”
“I do, I do, I want to, please, I want to beg, I want you to touch me, please, please, please-”
She ignored him. She lifted her hands and poured even more of the lube onto her fingers. But then, instead of smearing it around, Jamia pressed her index finger into Frank’s ass. She didn’t go very far, only to the first knuckle, and Frank almost wanted to cry, it was so exactly what he wanted but so not enough.
“Is that what you want, baby? You gotta tell me. You gotta ask nicely.”
“Yes, please, yes, I want it, I want-”
“What do you want? Do you even fucking know, Frankie?”
“I want, I want, I want you, I want-touch me, please, I want-”
“I am touching you, Frank. You’re not fucking telling me. What do you want?”
“I want your fucking fingers in my ass, please, please, god, I want it so fucking bad, please,” Frank cried, closing his eyes as his cheeks flushed red.
“‘Cause you like it, don’t you, Frankie? You like having things up your ass, don’t you? You like it when I fucking use you, don’t you?” She twisted her finger but didn’t push it in any more. He could take so much more, he wanted so much more right off the bat. He wanted it rough and Jamia knew that, and Frank couldn’t believe how much of a tease she was being.
“Yes, I like it, I want it, I want to take it up the ass, I want it, please, use me, I want it now, please, now, pleasepleasepleaseplease…”
Jamia made a show of checking her watch, turning her wrist so the bottle of lube tipped and dribbled more onto his cock. “Hmmm.” She made a thoughtful face and frowned down at Frank. “Ran out of time, baby. Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Oh god no, please, Jay, no, please, I love you, Iloveyouplease, please don’t do this to me, please.”
She shrugged and her far-too-thin finger slid out of his ass, which he protested with a disappointed whine. Then she stood up and went to the sink to wash off her hand.
“I laid out your clothes for the show,” she said over her shoulder. “Get dressed. You don’t want to be late.”
Frank couldn’t move. His fingers ached from clenching the pillow so tightly, and his dick ached from being kept on-edge for so fucking long. He had no doubt in his mind that Jamia had planned this and timed it perfectly, and he wanted to fucking cry, he was so desperate.
Jamia came back to the bed, wiping her hands on one of the hotel’s fluffy white hand towels. “Get dressed, Frank. I’ll be waiting on the bus.”
Frank obediently sat up and took the button-down shirt she handed him. He caught a glance at the hotel’s bedside clock and groaned. He didn’t even have time for a shower. Which was obviously part of her plan. “Jay, please-”
“I didn’t set your call time,” she said innocently, then turned on her heel and left the room.
Frank punched his pillow as soon as the door closed behind her. Then he punched it again for good measure. And then he put on the shirt and stood up to find the rest of his clothes. His cock bobbed as he straightened up, begging for attention, and Frank had to clench his fists tight to ignore it.
Lube dripped down the insides of his thighs.
“Oh, god, please,” Frank breathed at the ceiling. Jamia hadn’t left him any underwear, so he pulled on his jeans, socks, shoes, jacket, and slung his tie around his neck. He was going to be late.
He made it down to the parking lot to find Brian waiting by the door of the bus, glaring and tapping his watch. “Your wife came down five minutes ago; where the hell were you? We gotta go, Frank.”
Frank waved him off and Brian herded him up the steps. Inside, Jamia was chatting with Gerard while he put the finishing touches on his stage make-up. Frank stood beside her but she ignored him.
“Your tie’s undone,” Gerard pointed out unnecessarily. Frank glared at him.
By the time they pulled into the venue and stumbled into their dressing room to wait and warm up, Frank’s hard-on had mercifully gone down. He concentrated on normal things like talking to Mikey about whatever new movie was coming out that he wanted to see. Jamia hovered on the fringes of the conversations but never spoke to Frank directly.
It was frustrating enough that Frank felt the urge to drop to his knees in front of her, hands clasped prayerfully, and beg her to just look at him.
Right before they filed out to the stage, though, Jamia grabbed Frank by the arm and pulled him to the side, pressing him back against a wall.
“How do you feel, Frankie?” she breathed in his ear. “How does it feel?”
“Fucking teasing bitch-”
“You’re wasting time,” she said sharply.
“Wet, it feels wet, I feel-I feel like I’m naked,” Frank murmured under his breath. He could feel his face flushing again. “So fucking turned on I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”
Jamia smiled wickedly and leaned in to kiss him. As usual, she didn’t waste time before using her teeth. She stepped back to let him get on stage, and Frank was abruptly very aware of his cock pressing against the fly of his jeans. Thankfully, Cortez handed him a guitar and that at least hid his erection from the audience.
The songs flew by, but the show felt torturously long. Every time Frank moved, his focus drifted to the slippery wetness around his ass and thighs. He was almost sure there was a damp spot on his jeans, but he couldn’t bear to reach around and feel himself up in front of a thousand people with cameras.
Sweat poured off his face and his cock was misinterpreting the constant vibrations of his guitar. Frank rutted against Gerard for almost an entire song, lights flashing behind his eyes as well as above the stage.
Gerard slung his arm heavily around Frank’s shoulders and held him close, fingers splayed wide across Frank’s sweat-damp chest, and it felt so fucking good. Frank didn’t know if he was moaning out loud or not, but thankfully Gerard screaming in his ear drowned out whatever noises he might’ve made.
Towards the end of the show, Gerard gave him a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek and pushed him away. Frank stumbled to his side of the stage and fell to his knees, too dazed to even find Jamia in the darkness in the wings. He knew she was there, though, and that was enough. He closed his eyes and pushed his hips up against his guitar, desperate for any friction. He was about to lose it, and he was convinced God had answered his prayers when the lights went down at the end of the show.
Frank went through the post-show rituals of handing off his guitar and hugging his bandmates on automatic. Jamia found him in the hallway outside the dressing room. She poked her head in and said, “We’re going back to the bus; see you guys later,” and Frank followed her blindly through the maze of hallways.
“Strip,” she murmured, and Frank’s jeans were sagging around his knees as soon as the door to the back lounge closed. He kicked them off, along with his socks and shoes, and ripped at his shirt. Jamia grabbed his tie before he could destroy it and dangled it in front of his face.
Frank held out his hands obediently and she cinched the tie around his wrists.
“Down. Over the couch.”
Frank dropped to his knees and bent over the couch, pressing his face into the crease of the cushions. Something thick and blunt and hard pressed against his asshole and Frank was so fucking ready for it, he wanted it so fucking bad, he let out a warbling groan and pushed back.
Jamia rested her dry hand at the base of Frank’s spine, where his skin was still slick with sweat or lube or both. Frank scratched his fingernails frenetically against the rough upholstery and tried to stop his legs from shaking.
“You’re so fucking dirty, aren’t you, Frankie?” she asked, lips against his earlobe. “You were thinking about this during the whole show, weren’t you? Waiting for me? Waiting to see how I would use you? What were you thinking about? Did you wish for something up your ass? You want to wear a plug tomorrow? You want to grind up against your best friend with a plug in your ass, Frankie?”
“Pleasepleaseplease,” Frank gasped. He couldn’t form sentences, not even in his head. His dick was still soaked with lube and leaking precome onto the edge of the couch, and he was going to come any fucking second whether Jamia gave him permission or not.
“I saw him touching you,” she murmured. “I saw him holding you, baby. Does he have any idea what that does to you? Does he know how much you wanted someone to touch you?”
“Needed, needed it,” Frank corrected blearily.
“Like you need to come right now?” Jamia mocked. “I don’t think you need it.”
“I do, I do, I need, I need to come, please-” He trailed off into a moan as Jamia pushed the dildo forcefully into him. She held it there with the heel of her hand and slid her fingers around Frank’s balls, teasingly light.
“What do you need to make you come?” she asked.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, touch me, fuck me…” Frank chanted.
Jamia scraped her teeth lightly over the shell of Frank’s ear, and then bit down as she rocked the dildo into him and squeezed her free hand around Frank’s cock. It was too much sudden sensation for Frank to comprehend and he didn’t know which way to move-forward, into Jamia’s hand, or back, against the dildo, or just down, to bury himself in the couch cushions and melt into a puddle of lube and sweat and come.
He gave up on trying to be coherent and Jamia stroked him through his orgasm, catching most of his come in her fingers. When Frank was completely wrung out, she pulled the dildo out and let Frank collapse on the floor. He stretched out on his back, panting heavily, arms up over his head, wrists crossed and tied tightly.
Jamia sat back on her heels, smirking down at him, and held her fingers up to Frank’s face. He opened his mouth automatically and only recognized the taste of his come after he’d been sucking for a few moments. His eyes fluttered closed and he sighed with satisfaction.
He felt Jamia stretch out beside him. “You can shower when we get back to the hotel,” she whispered, withdrawing her fingers from Frank’s mouth. She dragged them over his lips, down his chin and throat, leaving a spit-slick trail that cooled rapidly on Frank’s skin.
Frank turned his head and pressed his face blindly into her hair. “Thank you, love you, thank you,” he mumbled. He was pretty much content to never move again, but a shower did sound nice.
fin.
pairing: Frank/Jamia
rating: NC-17
words: 2500
warning: fairly heavy Dominance/submission, not!pegging (whatever)
summary: Jamia's a tease and Frank's pretty desperate.
disclaimer: Completely untrue. I don't know these people, and if you do, you shouldn't be reading this.
a/n: My first kink_bingo fic for my new card! This one was originally going to be "dirty talk" but I changed it to "begging" about halfway through. Also, I fucking hate that Kings of Leon song but it's on the radio right now and I needed a title. whatever.
Frank was spread out on his back, legs spread wide and feet planted firmly on the bed, Jamia lounging casually between his thighs. She had a bottle of lube in her left hand; her right hand was covered in it. She smeared it all around Frank’s cock, turning his pubic hair into a matted, sticky mess, and all over his ass.
Frank had both hands clenched around the pillow beneath his head, and he was biting his lips to keep from begging. She hadn’t even touched his asshole yet. He could feel the lube sliding down the crease of his thigh. The towel underneath he was lying on was damp and Jamia’s little bottle was almost empty, even though she’d just bought it a day ago.
Jamia leaned to the side and nuzzled the side of her face against Frank’s knee, smirking down at him. Her wet hand slipped and slid and skated over his skin, so light he could barely feel it. She trailed the tip of her index finger up to the head of his cock and Frank’s thighs shook with the effort of not pushing his hips up for more friction.
She made a vaguely disapproving noise in the back of her throat and Frank squeezed his eyes closed for a few seconds, grinding his teeth in concentration.
“You want to beg, don’t you, baby?” she asked silkily. She sounded almost apologetic, but Frank wasn’t fooled; she was still grinning. “You want it so bad you’re willing to beg, aren’t you? But I bet you can’t even get the words out. Hmm? You want to try, baby?”
That wasn’t permission, not yet, so Frank pressed his lips together and glared as best he could.
“Do you even know what to beg for? Do you have any idea the things I want to do to you?” Jamia shook her head and kissed the side of his knee. “Oh, Frankie, begging won’t impress me. I’ve got a plan, and nothing you can say will change my mind. Begging won’t get you anywhere. You don’t even know what you want, baby.”
Frank made a helpless noise and flexed his fingers in the pillowcase a few times. If they were at home, he’d be tied to the bed by his wrists and ankles, unable to move, but here, without the restraints, it was so much harder.
Jamia’s achingly light fingers skirted carefully around his asshole, never quite touching, never pressing hard enough. She turned the bottle upside down and dripped more lube onto Frank’s balls. He didn’t mind the cold, but the feel of it sliding slowly down to his ass was like Chinese water torture. He closed his mouth tight and hummed wordlessly.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Jamia asked. “You want to say something? You want to beg, Frankie? Let me hear it.”
“Oh, god, please, please touch me, please, please, please,” he exploded. His face was flaming hot so he turned his head and tried to hide in the pillow. “Please, I need, I need it, anything, please, just touch me, touch me, touch me…”
She tilted her head and said, mockingly, “I am touching you, Frankie.”
Frank glanced down between his legs and saw that yes, the tips of her fingers were just barely touching his skin, but there was so much lube and he was so overheated he could barely feel it. He watched as she dragged her fingernail up his cock.
“Evil fucking bitch,” he gasped.
“Ah-ah-ah,” she murmured. “You really don’t get this whole ‘begging’ thing, do you, baby? You gotta be nice. You gotta convince me that I should care about what you want. Because I don’t, Frankie. I really don’t give a fuck what you want me to do.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry, please-”
Jamia dug her fingernail into the inside of his thigh. “I don’t want to hear worthless apologies,” she snapped. “I already told you begging will get you nowhere, but you can keep trying if you just want to debase yourself even more than you already have.”
“I do, I do, I want to, please, I want to beg, I want you to touch me, please, please, please-”
She ignored him. She lifted her hands and poured even more of the lube onto her fingers. But then, instead of smearing it around, Jamia pressed her index finger into Frank’s ass. She didn’t go very far, only to the first knuckle, and Frank almost wanted to cry, it was so exactly what he wanted but so not enough.
“Is that what you want, baby? You gotta tell me. You gotta ask nicely.”
“Yes, please, yes, I want it, I want-”
“What do you want? Do you even fucking know, Frankie?”
“I want, I want, I want you, I want-touch me, please, I want-”
“I am touching you, Frank. You’re not fucking telling me. What do you want?”
“I want your fucking fingers in my ass, please, please, god, I want it so fucking bad, please,” Frank cried, closing his eyes as his cheeks flushed red.
“‘Cause you like it, don’t you, Frankie? You like having things up your ass, don’t you? You like it when I fucking use you, don’t you?” She twisted her finger but didn’t push it in any more. He could take so much more, he wanted so much more right off the bat. He wanted it rough and Jamia knew that, and Frank couldn’t believe how much of a tease she was being.
“Yes, I like it, I want it, I want to take it up the ass, I want it, please, use me, I want it now, please, now, pleasepleasepleaseplease…”
Jamia made a show of checking her watch, turning her wrist so the bottle of lube tipped and dribbled more onto his cock. “Hmmm.” She made a thoughtful face and frowned down at Frank. “Ran out of time, baby. Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Oh god no, please, Jay, no, please, I love you, Iloveyouplease, please don’t do this to me, please.”
She shrugged and her far-too-thin finger slid out of his ass, which he protested with a disappointed whine. Then she stood up and went to the sink to wash off her hand.
“I laid out your clothes for the show,” she said over her shoulder. “Get dressed. You don’t want to be late.”
Frank couldn’t move. His fingers ached from clenching the pillow so tightly, and his dick ached from being kept on-edge for so fucking long. He had no doubt in his mind that Jamia had planned this and timed it perfectly, and he wanted to fucking cry, he was so desperate.
Jamia came back to the bed, wiping her hands on one of the hotel’s fluffy white hand towels. “Get dressed, Frank. I’ll be waiting on the bus.”
Frank obediently sat up and took the button-down shirt she handed him. He caught a glance at the hotel’s bedside clock and groaned. He didn’t even have time for a shower. Which was obviously part of her plan. “Jay, please-”
“I didn’t set your call time,” she said innocently, then turned on her heel and left the room.
Frank punched his pillow as soon as the door closed behind her. Then he punched it again for good measure. And then he put on the shirt and stood up to find the rest of his clothes. His cock bobbed as he straightened up, begging for attention, and Frank had to clench his fists tight to ignore it.
Lube dripped down the insides of his thighs.
“Oh, god, please,” Frank breathed at the ceiling. Jamia hadn’t left him any underwear, so he pulled on his jeans, socks, shoes, jacket, and slung his tie around his neck. He was going to be late.
He made it down to the parking lot to find Brian waiting by the door of the bus, glaring and tapping his watch. “Your wife came down five minutes ago; where the hell were you? We gotta go, Frank.”
Frank waved him off and Brian herded him up the steps. Inside, Jamia was chatting with Gerard while he put the finishing touches on his stage make-up. Frank stood beside her but she ignored him.
“Your tie’s undone,” Gerard pointed out unnecessarily. Frank glared at him.
By the time they pulled into the venue and stumbled into their dressing room to wait and warm up, Frank’s hard-on had mercifully gone down. He concentrated on normal things like talking to Mikey about whatever new movie was coming out that he wanted to see. Jamia hovered on the fringes of the conversations but never spoke to Frank directly.
It was frustrating enough that Frank felt the urge to drop to his knees in front of her, hands clasped prayerfully, and beg her to just look at him.
Right before they filed out to the stage, though, Jamia grabbed Frank by the arm and pulled him to the side, pressing him back against a wall.
“How do you feel, Frankie?” she breathed in his ear. “How does it feel?”
“Fucking teasing bitch-”
“You’re wasting time,” she said sharply.
“Wet, it feels wet, I feel-I feel like I’m naked,” Frank murmured under his breath. He could feel his face flushing again. “So fucking turned on I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”
Jamia smiled wickedly and leaned in to kiss him. As usual, she didn’t waste time before using her teeth. She stepped back to let him get on stage, and Frank was abruptly very aware of his cock pressing against the fly of his jeans. Thankfully, Cortez handed him a guitar and that at least hid his erection from the audience.
The songs flew by, but the show felt torturously long. Every time Frank moved, his focus drifted to the slippery wetness around his ass and thighs. He was almost sure there was a damp spot on his jeans, but he couldn’t bear to reach around and feel himself up in front of a thousand people with cameras.
Sweat poured off his face and his cock was misinterpreting the constant vibrations of his guitar. Frank rutted against Gerard for almost an entire song, lights flashing behind his eyes as well as above the stage.
Gerard slung his arm heavily around Frank’s shoulders and held him close, fingers splayed wide across Frank’s sweat-damp chest, and it felt so fucking good. Frank didn’t know if he was moaning out loud or not, but thankfully Gerard screaming in his ear drowned out whatever noises he might’ve made.
Towards the end of the show, Gerard gave him a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek and pushed him away. Frank stumbled to his side of the stage and fell to his knees, too dazed to even find Jamia in the darkness in the wings. He knew she was there, though, and that was enough. He closed his eyes and pushed his hips up against his guitar, desperate for any friction. He was about to lose it, and he was convinced God had answered his prayers when the lights went down at the end of the show.
Frank went through the post-show rituals of handing off his guitar and hugging his bandmates on automatic. Jamia found him in the hallway outside the dressing room. She poked her head in and said, “We’re going back to the bus; see you guys later,” and Frank followed her blindly through the maze of hallways.
“Strip,” she murmured, and Frank’s jeans were sagging around his knees as soon as the door to the back lounge closed. He kicked them off, along with his socks and shoes, and ripped at his shirt. Jamia grabbed his tie before he could destroy it and dangled it in front of his face.
Frank held out his hands obediently and she cinched the tie around his wrists.
“Down. Over the couch.”
Frank dropped to his knees and bent over the couch, pressing his face into the crease of the cushions. Something thick and blunt and hard pressed against his asshole and Frank was so fucking ready for it, he wanted it so fucking bad, he let out a warbling groan and pushed back.
Jamia rested her dry hand at the base of Frank’s spine, where his skin was still slick with sweat or lube or both. Frank scratched his fingernails frenetically against the rough upholstery and tried to stop his legs from shaking.
“You’re so fucking dirty, aren’t you, Frankie?” she asked, lips against his earlobe. “You were thinking about this during the whole show, weren’t you? Waiting for me? Waiting to see how I would use you? What were you thinking about? Did you wish for something up your ass? You want to wear a plug tomorrow? You want to grind up against your best friend with a plug in your ass, Frankie?”
“Pleasepleaseplease,” Frank gasped. He couldn’t form sentences, not even in his head. His dick was still soaked with lube and leaking precome onto the edge of the couch, and he was going to come any fucking second whether Jamia gave him permission or not.
“I saw him touching you,” she murmured. “I saw him holding you, baby. Does he have any idea what that does to you? Does he know how much you wanted someone to touch you?”
“Needed, needed it,” Frank corrected blearily.
“Like you need to come right now?” Jamia mocked. “I don’t think you need it.”
“I do, I do, I need, I need to come, please-” He trailed off into a moan as Jamia pushed the dildo forcefully into him. She held it there with the heel of her hand and slid her fingers around Frank’s balls, teasingly light.
“What do you need to make you come?” she asked.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, touch me, fuck me…” Frank chanted.
Jamia scraped her teeth lightly over the shell of Frank’s ear, and then bit down as she rocked the dildo into him and squeezed her free hand around Frank’s cock. It was too much sudden sensation for Frank to comprehend and he didn’t know which way to move-forward, into Jamia’s hand, or back, against the dildo, or just down, to bury himself in the couch cushions and melt into a puddle of lube and sweat and come.
He gave up on trying to be coherent and Jamia stroked him through his orgasm, catching most of his come in her fingers. When Frank was completely wrung out, she pulled the dildo out and let Frank collapse on the floor. He stretched out on his back, panting heavily, arms up over his head, wrists crossed and tied tightly.
Jamia sat back on her heels, smirking down at him, and held her fingers up to Frank’s face. He opened his mouth automatically and only recognized the taste of his come after he’d been sucking for a few moments. His eyes fluttered closed and he sighed with satisfaction.
He felt Jamia stretch out beside him. “You can shower when we get back to the hotel,” she whispered, withdrawing her fingers from Frank’s mouth. She dragged them over his lips, down his chin and throat, leaving a spit-slick trail that cooled rapidly on Frank’s skin.
Frank turned his head and pressed his face blindly into her hair. “Thank you, love you, thank you,” he mumbled. He was pretty much content to never move again, but a shower did sound nice.
fin.