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Mel was on fire. Frank was a wall of heat as he moved against her, his front plastered to her back, a hand pressed heavily against her stomach to keep her close as they gyrated to the pounding bass of the dance track. He gripped her waist with his other hand, his wedding ring scorching the sliver of bare skin where her t-shirt rode up, as if branding her with it.
The club Trinity and Samira had dragged her to was dark, loud, and absolutely packed, and if Mel wasn't so overly familiar with Frank's hands, she might have thought the man behind her a stranger, just two people who didn't know each other sharing a dance for a single night and nothing more. Maybe they could have been that if only they weren't everything but strangers. She'd call him her best friend, but that wasn't quite right. They might do everything best friends do, but they also did everything best friends shouldn't do, especially when one of them was as off the market as one could get, always teasing on the edge of something, nearing but never crossing the point of no return.
Mel might have cared once, but not now, not when she was high on a dangerous combination of tequila and Frank's addicting touch. Now she just moved her hips into the limited space his arms allowed her and kept him close with a hand to the back of his neck, where her fingers teased at the sweaty strands of hair. Her other hand covered the one Frank had gripping her waist, and she swiped a finger over the cool gold band that drove her insane on the daily. Frank just tightened his grip, hard enough to bruise, or so she hoped. If it did, she'd have a memento to stare at later.
The fast-paced bass was thrumming so hard she felt it pounding in her chest, though her heart gave it a run for its money as Frank grinded into her with a move that could only barely pass as dancing. Mel sighed shakily and tossed her head onto his shoulder, eyes closed because looking at him wasn't an option. She'd go crazy, and she already felt like pleading insanity most days. Frank refused to give her a break, and he dragged his hand up over her belly, following the contour of her body, his nail catching her peaked nipple through her threadbare t-shirt in a move so deliberate and good that she couldn't help but arch into it, earning her a bitten-off curse she only just picked up over the deafening music.
His cock was a thick line pressing against the small of her back, and Mel eagerly canted her hips into it. Resisting was impossible, even if she wanted to, and she didn't want to. The music and strobe lights made everything feel unreal, it was hypnotizing, transported her to another universe, one where she could filthily dance with Frank Langdon without a single care in the world. He wasn't married in her universe, wasn't her mentor at work, wasn't newly recovering and thus not supposed to form new relationships. He was just Frank, and she was just Mel, and they could have each other freely.
Mel loved this universe, didn't want to return to the other one, where Abby wanted to try and Frank was a mess of guilt and remorse who couldn't possibly give up his five-year-long marriage to the mother of his kids for a woman he'd just met in the grand scheme of things. Except he wanted to, he whispered to her on other dangerous nights like this one, during hushed conversations on the phone where he couldn't sleep because the couch was bad for his back and he called Mel awake with soft apologies, knowing she would pick up. He'd utter her name with so much desperation it made her want to offer up a place in her bed.
He'd called her tonight too, and she hadn't been asleep for a change. She'd been here, convinced by Trinity's "you need to get out and away from Langdon" and Samira's pleading "It's not healthy, Mel" because they were her friends and they knew even if they didn't approve. She'd joined them because they had a point, but her indifference had shown in her plain jeans and white t-shirt, not even wearing a bra because after a long day at work she couldn't be bothered to put it back on.
She'd been at the bar when he'd called, a zone of relative peace in a jam-packed club with strangers raving to the heavy bass music, having lost Trinity and Samira to the dance floor after assuring them she was fine on her own. Frank had been confused at the barrage of noise he'd been met with when she picked up. They'd exchanged goodnight texts a few hours earlier, like it was any other night and Mel was just going to bed. She hadn't wanted to tell him.
"Where are you?" He'd asked, a strange edge to his voice.
"Out." She'd answered, yelling slightly because she couldn't hear herself otherwise, and being deliberately vague because she kind of liked him sounding like that, and the tequila had entered her bloodstream enough for her not to feel bad about it.
"Alone?"
"No."
He'd gone deadly quiet then, and she couldn't help but feel vindicated because he was not the one who had to give her up to a wife and kids at the end of the day. The silence had continued for a while, though neither of them had hung up. Eventually, he'd asked her if she needed a ride home, which she didn't because it was girls' night and they were going to share a cab, but what she'd said was yes. Because she could never say no to seeing him.
Her skin had been buzzing at the idea of Frank seeing her like this, tipsy with her hair loose and t-shirt sticking to her skin with sweat from the oppressive nightclub heat. For the first time in her life, the throng of people on the dance floor had finally started to look inviting because she was filled with the need to do something. So she'd joined them. Had thrown herself into the rhythm and danced around the touches that were inevitable in a place like this.
Frank had found her there somehow, like he always did even when she didn't want to be found, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her eyes had been closed when he'd fitted his front to her back, but her body had recognized him like a lost limb. He'd molded to her effortlessly, slotting into the spaces meant for him, and danced with her like no one ever had before. The club might as well have been empty with how much Mel failed to care about anyone else but them.
Lost in her thoughts, she was snapped back to the present by Frank sliding his hand from her breast to her throat, cupping it with a possessiveness that quickened her breath. He used the leverage to tilt her head back until the strobe lights on the ceiling were flashing through her closed eyelids. Frank's stare was like a physical caress, burning along the side of her face.
"Mel-"
It was breathed right into her ear, the only reason she heard it. The wreckage of his voice sent shivers down her spine, and she grabbed his hair as he nosed along her cheekbone, in warning or in encouragement, she didn't know. Frank paused for a moment, as if also unsure, and then chose the latter, using his other hand to slide two fingers down the front of her jeans until the cold metal of his ring scraped the jut of her hipbone. The provocativeness pinkened Mel's already flushed cheeks, and she wondered when she'd stop him, if she'd ever stop him, or if she'd gladly let him touch her wherever he wanted despite the crowd surrounding them. She still didn't dare to open her eyes, so she just trusted that the darkness, loudness, and crowdedness of the club would keep curious eyes off of them.
His wandering touch found the thin strap of Mel's panties, and he tangled them around his fingers, twisting once, twice, until she could feel the fabric tighten against her wetness, and a third time, pressing the drenched cotton right up against where she was throbbing with arousal. Mel gasped out a moan, lost in the music for everyone but Frank, who grinned against her cheek. She did open her eyes then, to fix him with a glare for the smugness radiating off him.
It was a mistake. Their eyes met with a spark, the energy between them crackling like a bolt of lightning. Frank was beautiful like this, with the flashing lights illuminating his face, his sweaty damp hair hanging in tendrils over his forehead, and his eyes dark and intense. He was panting softly, his lips parted and red like he'd been biting them, and Mel wanted to kiss him so bad it hurt.
She didn't, couldn't, but she did lean in to touch their noses together, dragging hers along his in imitation of a kiss. His heavy sigh blew warm, minty air against her mouth, and she wondered if he'd brushed his teeth before coming here. They'd stopped moving, two still figures in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by a twisting swarm of strangers. Mel swallowed under Frank's hand, the constricting pressure deepening the arousal already pooling low in her belly, making her ache for more.
The rough drag of his ring against her hip was a sharp reminder not to close the remaining inches between them, and she pulled back, biting her lip as Frank stared at her mouth, his head inching forward to follow her. But Mel wouldn't kiss him while he was married to another woman. And maybe it was hypocritical to draw the line at kissing when his hand was down her pants and his thick length consistently grinded against the curve of her ass. But she never claimed to be a good person, and she had to draw the line somewhere, it was the only thing keeping the little self-control she had left in check.
Frank punished her by tugging the string of her panties up even further, drawing the fabric so tight it edged on painful. Unfortunately, that only made it hotter, and the pressure was so good she thought she might come if he kept it up. And God, she really did want him to make her come. But not yet, and not here.
Mel turned in his hold, and Frank adjusted easily, freeing his hands to slide them up her back, giving her room to breathe as the grip on her panties fell away. Except he then tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled, her newly found breath catching in her chest at the heat shooting through her veins. Her neck arched into a bow, a perfect canvas for Frank's mouth as he kissed it wetly. Oh fuck, Mel thought. He was refusing to go easy on her tonight, showing absolutely no remorse while he seduced her knowing nothing would come of it in the end, because Mel wouldn't let it. Sometimes, she hated him, but she never stopped wanting him. She maybe even loved him.
The beat dropped into a low thrum, the heavy vibrations reminding her of where they were, and she draped her arms over his shoulders, moving her hips to the music to get them dancing again, if the dirty grind they started up could even be called that. Frank released her hair in favor of hitching her leg up until his firm thigh was a dizzying pressure between her legs. His other hand crept up under her t-shirt, smoothing fingers up and down her bare back, his wedding ring tracing cool lines across her heated skin, only making her feel warmer at the inherently forbidden nature of the ring touching her at all.
Mel got lost for a while, swept up in the pounding music and the pleasure of Frank's touch. They'd skirted the edge like this before, like Frank using her couch on nights where he found it impossible to stay at home, when his brain reminded him addiction was a lifelong disease despite the many months of sobriety. He had nightmares sometimes, and Mel would wake him up with soft touches and sweet words until he snapped open his eyes, looking at her with such despair it made her feel utterly helpless. On the first of those nights, she'd climbed on top of him to act like his own personal weighted blanket, because it never failed to help her when she was feeling anxious. Ever since then, Frank always opened his arms when he woke up to her presence, and Mel always crawled into them.
There were other nights too, ones where she'd had a bad day at work and Frank drove her home only to follow her straight into her apartment because he didn't want to leave her alone. Mel would listen to his and Becca's chatter while he cooked for them, and it always made her feel better, even if she had to force herself to ignore the buzzing of his phone and the way his eyes tightened at whatever the messages said.
Every single one of those nights was the reason Mel couldn't find it in herself to stop whatever was going on between them. If it were simply a matter of lust, she might have been able to put it aside, to find someone else and get over him. But it was so much more. They cried together, laughed together, talked until there were no secrets left between them, Frank sharing his deepest, darkest thoughts, knowing she would keep them safe without judgment, and Mel sharing hers in return, knowing he wouldn't think less of her in the end. Mel had lost count of the number of times she'd fallen asleep on top of him, or under him, or next to him, always on the couch, always close but not too close.
No, despite their friendship that couldn't exactly be called a friendship, they'd never gotten quite as close as right now. She'd felt the heat of his erection before, when they woke up entangled on the couch, but Frank normally let her pretend she hadn't felt a thing, unlike now, when he seemed determined to grind the both of them into inappropriately public orgasms. His bulge was making her fingers itch, and she slipped them down the collar of his shirt to keep herself from finding out what he was packing down there. His shoulders were a lovely distraction, corded muscle slick with sweat and flexing under her touch. God, they needed to stop because-
Mel whimpered at a particularly dirty grind, her head dropping to rest against Frank's shoulder. She was helpless in the face of his passion. It was like a dam had broken tonight, like the mere thought of Mel going out with another man had made Frank desperate enough to say fuck it and claim her as his. And if Mel had known that faking a date would be the straw that broke the camel's back, she might have done it a lot sooner. Because she'd never felt the air of divorce looming quite so hard before.
But looming or not, Frank wasn't divorced yet, and Mel needed to put a stop to this because they were nearing the point of no return at lightning speed, and she refused to have her first orgasm with him while he was still married to another woman. Another line she'd decided to draw just now. With the compromising position they were in, she figured she could use all the lines that were left.
She leaned up to press her forehead against his temple, did her best to ignore the way he gripped her tighter, and breathed her plea for air straight into his ear. Frank nodded and immediately grabbed her hand to start leading her outside, paving a way through the mass of dancing strangers with Mel following in the space he created, twisting her other hand in the back of his shirt to keep him close. They broke out through one of the calmer side exits, joining some other stragglers on the sidewalk. The silence was a blessing to her ears, though she could still hear the pounding bass coming from the inside.
"You okay?" Frank asked, turning to her as soon as the doors fell closed.
"Yeah," She breathed, her voice a scratchy thing compared to normal. "Just needed some air."
A chilly gust of wind blew over them, causing her to shiver as goosebumps appeared on her skin.
"Jesus, Mel, you look indecent."
She sputtered in outrage because she absolutely did not, and then gasped as Frank palmed her ribcage and swiped a thumb on the underside of her breast, and oh, her nipples were stiff and blatantly peeking through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. He crowded her against the wall as if shielding her from any onlookers, his eyes wild and intense. The blue of his iris was exaggerated in the dim light of the nearest street lantern, and if Mel thought leaving the dance floor would give her a break, she was apparently dead wrong.
"Did you-" He frowned. "Who were you here with tonight?"
The question must have been on his mind ever since he'd called her, with the way it came out as a desperate plea for information. Mel found his jealousy a bit ridiculous, especially since they'd spent the past hour grinding against each other, but she was too far gone to keep up the lie she'd inadvertently created, so she told him the truth.
He arched his brow. "Santos and Mohan?"
Mel nodded, and the relief softened Frank's face drastically, almost making her feel bad for letting him think otherwise. Almost. He sighed, leaning in to press his forehead against hers, sliding their sweaty strands of hair together. It should be disgusting, but it twisted Mel's insides instead.
"Fuck, Mel. I thought-" He swallowed hard. "Can't believe you let me think-"
"You're married."
"I know." He rasped against her mouth, a technicality the only thing keeping it from being called a kiss.
Mel turned her head in an effort to lessen the temptation, but Frank of course did not let up and pressed his mouth right up against the curve of her jaw, trailing a path up to nip at her ear. She gripped his shirt to pull him closer despite knowing she needed distance more than anything.
"Do you?" She gasped out, because he didn't act like it.
"I can leave her." He whispered like a secret. "I can't leave you."
It was horrible that those words excited her, but God, they did, and she wouldn't pretend to be a good person and deny that. The prove it was on the tip of her tongue, but what she needed more than anything was for the divorce to be Frank's decision only, so she kept quiet. If he needed more time to deal with his guilt, more time with his kids, Mel would not begrudge him that, even if his absence hurt a little bit more every time he left her.
"I don't want you to leave me." Is what she said eventually.
"I won't, sweetheart."
It was whispered like a promise, and Mel believed him. Because it wasn't like she didn't know he'd be hers one day, on the contrary, she knew in her gut there was a future ahead with everything she ever wanted. She would live a lifetime of kissing him and fucking him and loving him. It was an inevitability, a certainty on par with the sun rising every morning. She just needed to be patient.
Despite their closeness, the cold wind made her shiver again, and Frank used his big hands to rub some warmth into her arms.
"Come on, I've got a hoodie in the car." He said, pulling back to nod his head down the street.
"Hm, I love your hoodies."
"I know." Frank smiled, getting an arm around her shoulders to lead her to his car. "It's why I brought one."
His hoodie was time-worn and soft, and Mel buried her nose in the collar to breathe in Frank's scent, squirming happily in the passenger's seat as he drove her home. The ride was silent, but Frank's grip on her thigh said more than words could, and she held his hand in return while she one-handedly texted Trinity and Samira to let her know of her departure. They wouldn't be happy about her leaving with Frank, but Mel didn't care. It was futile to fight the pull between them. The car came to a stop in front of her apartment building, and Frank smiled at her, squeezing her thigh, and fuck, he was so handsome, it was unfair. The part of her that was controlled by pure horniness hated herself for not inviting him up because she knew he'd come, knew he'd eagerly fuck her into her mattress if she asked, knew it would be so good.
Her self-control crumbled a little further, and Mel really needed to get away from him, so she leaned over to press a quick final kiss to his cheek, the innocence a stark contrast to the filthy stuff they got up to at the club. Frank's eyes were filled with an impossible blend of fondness and want as he stared after her. It still surprised her she'd somehow managed to get Frank Langdon to look at her like that.
"Don't look at me like that." She chastised him.
"I always look at you like this."
Yeah, well, that didn't help. She flushed, reminded of the numerous times she'd been at the hospital and found that particular gaze focused on her. He generally had a good poker face, but it blinked out of existence when it came to her, or so he'd said. Mel reluctantly broke their eye contact to exit the car, huffing out a laugh when she heard the sound of her window lowering. They were horrible at saying goodbye, often delaying their parting by another five minutes and another five minutes until an hour had gone by and they were still hovering in each other's spaces. With her restraint hanging on by a thread, Mel couldn't do that tonight, so she closed the door and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Goodnight, Frank." She said pointedly.
"Sweet dreams, Mel."
"That won't be a problem." She muttered under her breath, though going by the smug tilt of Frank's smile, he did pick up on it.
She set off towards the front door, having just reached the steps when-
"Hey, Mel." Frank called through the open window.
She looked back with a questioning smile.
"I might need a place to stay tomorrow—well, today, I guess. Maybe a week or two until I get a new place."
Oh.
Her grin was wide and bright like the sun just peeking over the horizon. But that didn't mean he didn't deserve to suffer a bit longer for making her wait this long.
"I'll make up the couch."