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wordsnwhiskey · 2 years

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FJD:FJDL KELLY THESE THREE FJDLSFJLDSF OMG ok I loved this, I love Dom Frankie, he makes my heart just swoon.

I loved that Dieter had his piercings and his new tattoo and his tongue ring holy shit 👀

I really, really loved though, the love, intimacy, and care here between the three of them. The acceptance and support they have and show for each other is just so perfect I'm emotional over it 🥺

I loved this second installment so much and adored how despite them feeling things out still, how grounded they are about what they want, that they're having those real and open conversations (like about Adelia)

fjdsla;fjlds ugh pls I loved this so freaking much!!

Boom Clap - Sparks Fly (ii)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x Female Reader x Dieter Bravo Rating: E (Explicit, Minors DNI) Warnings/Possible Triggers: Vague mentions of past substance use (coke), mentions of anxiety disorder, Dom/Sub elements, M/M/F, SHAMELESS smut (oral m & f receiving, anal m & f receiving, dirty semi-public sex)

Word Count: 7.3k Notes: The tattoo that Dieter has is discussed in this post here

Part One | Series Masterlist

Life had a funny way of working things out.

You couldn’t help but stare at the solid wood barricade in front of you, the front door to a house you thought you would never see again, but instead of a lingering defeat and sense of loss there was hope and warmth. Just waiting for you if you could get your limbs to cooperate and knock, to get rid of the final barrier between the past and present. You knew it was different now, you knew that it wouldn’t be like stepping six years into the past, but your heart was still galloping in your chest.

All you had to do was knock.

So you did.

The door shot open and Frankie’s arms enveloped you, pulling you against him as your duffel bag fell from your grip, and you immediately returned that hug as you burrowed your face against him and just breathed. He had waited, patiently, behind that door for you to make the move. Just like he’d promised a year ago when he’d come out to Utah and saved you from yourself.

“Welcome home, Firecracker.”

Hearing those words after so long, after so much distance, had your heart squeezing as you nodded against his frame and continued to cling. Part of you was terrified that this was all just a dream, and that you’d wake up in your tiny studio apartment on the other side of the country alone if you let go, you weren’t ready to risk waking up just yet. He knew, of course he knew, and Frankie continued to hold you even as he tugged you inside while Santiago and Will grabbed your bags from the porch.

“I’m home.” The whisper against his skin led to the man sniffling, loudly, before you felt Frankie nodding against you. You pulled away to look at him and wipe the tears gathered in his eyes, with Frankie grinning so brightly, and when he tipped his head just a little to the side you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling his face to yours for a kiss.

Exaggerated gagging from Benny earned Frankie flipping the other man off, his free arm pulling you as close to him as he could get you, and Santiago’s arms around both of yours shoulders was what finally broke you away from one another and the teasing grin on his face made you shove the other man off before wrapping him in a hug.

One year of video and voice calls, of sharing stories and reconnecting, had rekindled the friendships you thought you’d lost. Tom’s death was one of the hardest stories to hear, especially seeing the guilt that these men were dealing with because of it, but hearing about him succumbing to greed and disregarding Frankie’s warnings… learning that he had been too trigger happy and nearly gotten all of them killed made you feel sorry for him.

You knew that he’d been struggling even before you left; that Molly had wanted a third baby –to try for the boy they both wanted- and his real estate venture hadn’t quite worked out for him. He’d begged and borrowed and fought against his own poor luck and a bad market and the money from Lorea’s house had been a golden ticket in his eyes.

“Where am I taking your bags to, Firecracker?” Frankie had slung your duffel on his shoulder, your two suitcases at his side, and your throat felt thick with emotion. You’d talked about your relationship over the last period of filming, to make sure that both of you were on the same page and that all the cards were on the table, so you could understand why he was asking.

“Our room, Frankie.”

Watching his face break out into the widest grin you’d seen, nodding eagerly in response as he hurried to do so, your attention shifted to look at Will as the older Miller pulled you in for a hug.

“What about Hollywood?” Pope’s question made you grin before you could stop yourself, the actor hadn’t realized it but he’d made himself a part of the group without trying and had a call sign of his own. The morning after had been relaxed and slow, with Frankie dragging Dieter to dinner with the guys since filming was canceled in response to the black eye the actor sported from the punch, and you’d seen the way the man tensed up around everyone.

But the guys had chipped away at his walls, breaking him out of his distrust and getting him to realize that none of them particularly judged him for his career or were after his fame, and over the period of the last year Dieter had been as much a part of relationship talks as you and Frankie. Enough so that, to your surprise, he had chosen to go to rehab and go clean.

“He has another six weeks in his program.” The live-in facility he’d ended up going to was nice, the reviews were solid and it seemed more like an escape resort than a rehab center. Actual trained staff, for mental health and actual medical health, made up the majority of the staff and they hadn’t batted an eye when Dieter came in. His status as a celebrity wasn’t even a matter of discussion and in his weekly phone call he had said he felt good, better than he ever had, which made you happy.

“You think he’s going to actually show up here?” Frankie’s voice didn’t give him away but you could see the slight tension, he had no plans to introduce Dieter to Paulette or Adelia right away –and with the man’s list of upcoming projects he wouldn’t be here often enough to worry about it for now- but you knew that Frankie was most worried about Dieter finding someone in rehab before you three figured your shit out.

Frankie wasn’t afraid of rejection but he still had his hang ups over it.

“Of course he is, who would be stupid enough to turn Firecracker down, Fish?” Pope’s teasing earned the man a headlock and you laughed, too loud and too high, but you didn’t care. It felt good being home like this, being with your friends again, and the part of you that had been so empty was beginning to feel full again.

The day of reunions turned to staying out late by the fire pit with beer and pizza and more stories and laughs, everyone finally dragging themselves to their cars, and Frankie had simply pulled you to bed and made the softest love to you with whispers of gratitude for coming back.

“You’re home in Florida now?” Dieter’s voice was light through the speaker as you worked on throwing together a quick lunch to take to Frankie at his shop, a week had passed since your return and you already had a job lined up to start on Monday, but you noticed there was something vulnerable in the actor’s tone and paused what you were doing to look over at your cell phone. It wasn’t a video call, that wasn’t allowed, but over the last period of filming alongside the actor you’d learned more of the nuances of his tone.

“Isn’t exactly home yet, Dee, you’re not here.” Dieter, for all his Hollywood glam, needed a lot of reassurance and affirmation; he was getting better now that he was actually talking with therapists but you knew that he was just as vulnerable emotionally as Frankie was. He made a soft sound and you couldn’t help but smile since you knew he was probably blushing red if he wasn’t close to crying.

“Five more weeks, and I do get a week off before I have to get ready for the next big project.” It wasn’t like you had expected him to have a lot of time with you and Frankie here but he’d be jetting around LA for two weeks doing interviews about his recovery process before going to Texas for a Western he was going to star in. You knew that there’d be plenty of long distance video calls in the future for you and Frankie, a lot of phone sex, and probably frantically planned weekends where the three of you found a way to meet up somewhere.

But Dieter was worth it.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again, even if it’s a week, I’m proud of you Dee and so is Frankie.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do this without the two of you. Give him a kiss for me?”

“I can do that, Dee.”

The call ended and you smiled softly as you finished up Frankie’s lunch, taking your bicycle over to Frankie’s garage where your boyfriend was currently half under a real clunker of a car, and you chuckled fondly at the sight. The workshop turned garage was set back from the road, surrounded by bushes he’d let grow on one side and cars to be worked on or picked up on the other after he’d paved out the area himself, it was pretty secluded and back when it was just a storage place you’d once told him he could have turned it into a little studio to rent to someone.

Frankie rolled himself out from under the car and grinned at the sight of you, getting up and just stripping off his sweaty shirt since the main doors were closed and the entrance was locked up. As a solo garage he had strict appointment times and kept everything locked while he was working so that there were no chances of people accidentally getting too close to whatever he was doing. You didn’t mind it since it meant lunches were time for the two of you, so that if he was exhausted when he got home you didn’t feel like you’d lost time with him.

“Dee wanted me to give you something.” Frankie looked up from where he was washing his hands and you ignored the heat crawling down your back as he dried them and sauntered over, not at all surprised when you pulled his face to yours and slotted your lips with his. Frankie was warm and definitely sweating but you didn’t care, clinging to him as he chuckled against your mouth, and his hand slid up your back to grip the back of your neck and pull you away from him.

“That’s from Hollywood?”

“Yeah, this is mine.” He moaned against your mouth as you pulled him by the belt loops, with your back to the higher table behind you, mouth pressing back to his frantically as you knocked his hat clean off his head to sink your fingers into his hair; his hands pressed into your hips and Frankie pulled one of your legs up by the knee to grind against you. Frankie’s teeth sank into your lower lip hard enough that it skated on the edge of pain and pleasure and you tugged at his hair in retaliation, not at all surprised when he growled against your mouth and gripped your neck tighter.

“You’re toeing the line, Firecracker, what happened to my good girl from last night?” The reminder of being so thoroughly fucked made you shiver, you’d woken up to him leaving for the day and seeing all the teeth marks he’d left on you while you showered had only made you want him again even if you were still a little sore. In response you snaked a hand between your bodies, palming him through his jeans, and Frankie’s response was swift as he turned you abruptly and bent you over the hood of the clunker he had been working on.

You didn’t have time to do more than gasp as he reached around you to unbutton your shorts and drag them off your hips along with your panties, the clothes landing at your ankles while he kept you in place with the grip on the back of your neck.

“Count it, Firecracker.”

The spank was sharp and sudden, almost painful but not enough to actually hurt, and you jolted at the contact.

“O-one!”

Frankie rubbed the skin he’d struck gently, almost reverently, as your chest heaved against the body of the car. He had made sure that you were bent over just enough that you wouldn’t rub yourself against the dirty vehicle, at least, but that didn’t negate how dirty he was still and it made you clench around nothing that he was like this today.

The second spank made you jerk slightly, hands pressing into the hood of the car.

“Two!”

Three was sudden and right on your pussy, quick and sharp and making you moan loudly at the sensation.

“Thr-three!”

Frankie didn’t stop, working you all the way up to fifteen and you were not only drooling on the hood of the car but you were so wet that it almost hurt. You didn’t have time to even beg him before he was pressing two fingers into you, bending over your body so he could sink his teeth into the shell of your ear, and you felt yourself leaking down your thighs from his pace.

All your desire to rile him up more disappeared; you wanted him to fuck you and to leak with him for the rest of the day.

“I’m sorry sir! I wanted attention, I’m sorry for being a brat, please- please can I come?”

“There she is, there’s my good girl. Yes, come for me, mi lucecita.”

A moan mixed with a sob escaped you as your body clenched around him, as the flood of slick dribbled out of you with each slow grind of his hand, and Frankie fumbled with his jeans one handed as the other stayed between your legs, two fingers now circling your clit slowly as he pulled his pants and boxers down just enough so that he could use his now shiny hand to slick his shaft up. You whimpered when he pressed into you, rocking back against him the best you could, and Frankie chuckled as his now wet hand gripped your hip.

“Bold move to ride your bike here, or were you going to stay and ride home with me?” You realized why he was asking, knowing you were already sore and now you’d been spanked, and the fact that he was letting you choose made your cunt throb around him.

“Can I stay, sir?”

His reply was a low, throaty, moan that you might’ve mistaken for thunder before he moved. He was brutal and you loved it, the force of his hips pressing against your ass, the grind at the end of each thrust, and the feeling of his hand on your neck holding you where he wanted you left you weak in the knees.

“Such a good girl for me.”

He gripped your hip hard and you muttered a soft ‘uh huh’ as best you could.

“Maybe I should charge more for this job, since I’m gonna have to clean it up because someone woke up in a mood. Or do you want the customer seeing your drool on the hood?”

Frankie used his grip on you to turn your head the other direction, to bite a new mark into your skin, and you whimpered when he let go of your neck to wrap his arm around your waist.

“Wonder if I can make you squirt on this car?”

Everything seized up in your body at the very idea of him doing that, making you squirt on the car and then giving it back to his customer, and Frankie wheezed with how tight your body clenched around him as you came. The rapid ‘slapslapslap’ of his hips echoing under your loud moans before he ground himself inside you as he came, the liquid slick and his cum dribbling down your thighs with each light thrust, and as he pulled himself out of you it was like all your ability to support your legs disappeared as your knees buckled.

His hold on your waist kept you up as he carried you to the office chair, snatching your panties and shorts off the floor, and he cleaned what he could up before grabbing the lunch you’d brought and making you sit in his lap as he ate. Sweat and oil smeared your skin now, from where his arms and jeans had rubbed against you, but you hardly cared.

He left you to play around on his work laptop while he finished up, what he was doing, and you were glad you’d decided to stay when the endorphins began to fade.

Frankie made a noise on the phone as Dieter told him about the most recent suggestion from his therapist, an anxiety animal, and glanced over at where you were laying on the couch. You hadn’t been feeling good this past week, he’d almost blamed it on the fact that he’d fucked you in the shop until your period came, and while he didn’t mind that there would be a pet here occasionally he wasn’t going to make assumptions.

“Hang on. Firecracker?” You looked up from your snacks, he had quickly gone to get them when you’d told him about your early period, and the call was set to speaker.

“Go ahead Hollywood, say that again.”

“Hi beautiful, sorry you feel like crap. Uh, listen, my therapist here mentioned getting an anxiety animal. We figured out that, uh, the drugs were a way for me to cope with the nerves that come from being under the public eye so much. So he thinks getting an anxiety animal would be good for me.”

“Oh Dee, of course you can get one. Did you have any ideas?”

A soft hum on the other end of the phone made Frankie smile, he could picture the man’s lips twisted up as he contemplated his choices.

“I’m thinking a cat, not a dog, but only because I don’t really like dogs. Got bit by one before.”

Frankie watched your face fall into something sympathetic; you loved all animals equally so he knew you’d be okay with everything, and he didn’t mind cats at all. If anything he would rather Dieter show up with a cat rather than a dog since he could picture Adelia begging for a pet the second she did actually meet Dieter.

“That’s a great idea, Dee, there’s even studies saying that cat purrs are good for you.” He’d read it in an article on his tablet –you’d given him it after learning he didn’t have a card system in the shop- and Frankie watched the way your eyes lit up. He’d become sold on the damn thing when he realized he could actually read what was on the screen easier, that he could answer calls on it if he needed to, and since he had a few games too. Dieter had tutted when he’d first learned about the new device but relented half way through his rant about 5g and brainwaves.

“You’re both okay… with that?”

“Of course, Dee, we want what’s good for you and if this is going to help then we’ll welcome a furry family member happily.”

“Exactly, Hollywood, you know you could retire tomorrow and we’d be okay with that but if an anxiety animal will allow you to comfortably do what you love then that’s okay too.”

“Thank you, I’m- I’ll let you know what I decide.” Frankie chuckled as the call ended, abruptly, and suspected Dieter had run out of time; the facility used landlines with a set timer, for a reason, and now that he had four weeks left they were going to be slowly allowing him more freedoms to see if he’d be okay. You looked up at Frankie and smiled but immediately winced, making him lean down to kiss you as he bumped up the heating pad temperature for you.

Dieter had gone through a list of possible cat breeds and animals in general, from goats to chinchillas to lizards, and you had helped Frankie with corralling the actor’s excitement with reminders of the needs each animal would have. He hadn’t told you what kind of cat he’d chosen or what its name was, just that he had a little female cat now, and Dee was due to show up in a mere hour. You had panic cleaned the entire house after work and had dinner in the oven while Frankie went to get Dee from the airport, your hands constantly moving as you paced the length of the tile floor nervously. It was exciting and nerve-wracking, this would be the first time in twelve weeks you’d actually seen Dee and it could go good or bad tonight.

For an hour you talked yourself down from a panic, constantly reminding your brain that he was coming here because he wanted to, that whatever happened was fine even if he decided he only wanted to be friends and no longer part of whatever the hell your relationship was. The sound of keys in the door, as you put the last dish on the dining room table, nearly made you throw the chorizo mac and cheese all over the table and you had to step back from the dishes and breathe.

“Beautiful?” Dee’s call made your legs weak as you tugged off your apron, his footsteps light as you braced yourself on the counter, and when Dee stepped into the room your heart lurched in your chest when he looked at you. The man looked good, his hair was a little long and needed a trim but he didn’t look as worn down as he had before, and you felt your chest tighten in both happiness and dread.

This was it; he was going to walk away since he could have any starlet or actor he wanted.

Dieter’s hands on your face pulled you from the panic spiral, his eyes shining with concern, and your breathing became a little too harsh. Dieter’s forehead pressed against yours, his hands sliding around you to rub your back, and his voice was a slow rhythm pattern of sound as he held you up when your legs tried to just drop you. He was singing, you realized, and as your breathing steadied you realized Frankie was carefully covering the dishes on the table with foil.

Both men looked worried.

“That was the first panic attack you’ve had in years.” Frankie’s worry was more insistent than Dieter’s was but only because he’d known you had panic attacks, usually pertaining to days when he’d disappear and come back fucked up on coke. You sank into Dieter’s hold with a sigh, gripping at the fabric of his shirt tightly, and he rubbed you back gently.

“I’ve uh- been scared. That- well, that now with you in a better place Dee-“

“That I’d walk away.”

You nodded and your eyes lowered, shame filling you to the point that tears gathered in your lashes, and Dee cupped your face again to kiss your forehead.

“No way, Firecracker, you two are the best thing to happen to me. I promise that I’m in this fully, okay?”

As you nodded your eyes landed on Frankie setting the oven to warm, sliding the food inside, and he wrapped both you and Dee in his arms. Then he whispered something to Dee and the actor grinned, disappearing around the doorway to the laundry room the second Frankie loosened his hold, and he came back with a small noisy little fur ball.

“Firecracker, I’d like you to meet Sparkler. An oriental shorthair, isn’t she cute?”

The massive ears and tiny face made your chest tighten and the little kitten sniffed at your fingers as you offered them to her, the name bringing tears to your eyes, and that little tiny kitten began to purr loudly as she was handed to you.

“Sparkler?”

“I wanted to take a little bit of you everywhere I went.”

While it was embarrassing that you cried, the fish print collar definitely was for Frankie’s call sign, and both men took you to the couch and let you cry out your stress as the kitten pawed at your face and tried to comfort you too.

Once Sparkler was set up with her tower, the litterbox already set up, Frankie plated dinner and made everyone eat. The discussions stayed centered on work, about Dee’s upcoming schedule for travel per his agent, and how he’d spent the last two weeks with a trainer to learn how to help keep Sparkler acclimated to being carted around. By the time the leftovers were being put away you were tired, full, and desperate for some cuddles.

You fell asleep between Frankie and Dieter with whispered words of adoration the last thing you heard before you fell asleep.

What stirred you from sleep was the feeling of the bed moving,

Soft grunting and a needy whine making you blink and turn your head to see Dee on his side facing your back with Frankie behind him, one leg up over Frankie’s hip, and his cock was weeping on the sheets as he bit the blanket to try and keep quiet. You murmured their names as your brain struggled to keep up with your wake up, turning over and reaching out to gently scratch Dee’s beard to make sure you weren’t dreaming, and Frankie’s eyes met yours over the actor’s shoulder before he cast a meaning filled look at Dee’s cock.

You turned your head to check the time and winced, knowing you had barely any time to indulge like Frankie did, and when you heard the low rumble of your name in warning it made you realize he wanted you to go to work hot and bothered. The first thing you felt was anger, a rush of irritation and annoyance at the fact that he wanted you to spend all day pent up and needy for them, but you also knew that your emotions were extremely volatile after a panic attack.

Over Dee’s body you met Frankie’s gaze, letting him see the exposed emotion because the words just wouldn’t come out, and surprise flashed on his face first before his hard look softened and he reached out to cup your face.

“I’m sorry, Firecracker, I didn’t think about how you’d feel today. Hollywood, you wanna ride me so I can take care of our girl?” Dee’s eyes opened as he looked at you, mouth meeting yours in the sweetest of kisses, and he moved with Frankie until your boyfriend was on his back comfortably. It wasn’t often you would let Frankie convince you to sit on his face but between his grabby hands and Dee’s pleading look you found yourself shimmying out of your sleep clothes and bringing yourself over Frankie’s face backwards so that you could still help take care of Dee.

Neither man expected you to lean forward and take the actor’s cock in your mouth but Dee’s loud moan had Frankie’s hands gripping your hips to help keep you steady. Frankie also had his knees bent so his feet could be planted on the bed, giving him leverage and Dee leverage, so when Dee’s pace became too slow Frankie fixed that even as he devoured you.

But your surprise came from the row of bars decorating the underside of the actor’s dick and you moaned loudly around him at the very thought of these inside you. He’d mentioned getting a new piercing while he was in rehab and putting his tongue ring back in now that he wasn’t filming, but this was as far from the expectation as it could get. You widened your mouth to make up for the balls on other side of the bars, letting your tongue brush over the new textures carefully, and only hollowing your cheeks enough that you wouldn’t accidentally hurt him.

It was almost impossible to focus entirely on Dee’s cock though because Frankie’s tongue was insistent, lapping at you and dipping inside of you, and you knew he was being messy with it on purpose. Dee’s hips jumped before he was grabbing your head, holding you in place as he came into your mouth, making you wonder just how long Frankie had been edging the man before you’d woken up, but your brain nearly short circuited when Dee pushed you upright to kiss you and his hands cupped your breasts as he whined into your mouth from overstimulation.

Frankie groaned beneath you, hips stuttering as he came, and both men turned their focus solely to you. Frankie’s tongue slid back and up as Dee ran two fingers through the mess of slick and saliva before slowly, so slowly, he was easing one of them inside of you. But today was not the day for that, the pain was too much and you winced with a soft ‘yellow’ whispered as your hands gripped Dee’s biceps. He pulled his finger out of you just as gently, apologies whispered against your lips, and then Dee and Frankie were moving.

“Stand up, lucecita.”

Your legs were shaking but you did, thighs messy and clock ticking down, but both men got on their knees on either side of you and your heart jumped at the reverence in their expressions before they were both diving back into your pleasure with enthusiasm. Dee lifted on leg over his shoulder and Frankie had a good grip on the back of your other knee, your hands gripping at their hair as they worked in tandem to give you release before you had to go.

Dee was relentless, running his tongue through your folds and paying attention to the entirety of your pussy. He suckled at your outer labia, ran his nose against your clit as he dragged the flat of his tongue the entire way up, and nipped at you to see how you’d respond; all while Frankie was behind you, tasting and teasing you there.

Frankie’s tongue pressed into your puckered hole and Dee’s circled your clit, reaching up into his mouth before you felt the rapid buzz and realized his tongue ring –which had seemed unusually large when he’d kissed you- was able to vibrate. That was what tipped you over, the litter vibrator pressed right to your clit, and your thighs shook as you squealed their names from how sudden the sensation hit you.

“Help her shower for work, Dee, no fooling around. I’m going to get breakfast started and get her lunch packed.” Frankie’s voice was soft and fond; you didn’t miss him snagging his toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom first as Dee corralled you into the shower, and while the actor did absolutely go out of his way to be fun and thank you for taking care of him he was miraculously well behaved aside from soaping up your body. But it was also then you saw the tattoo decorating his lower back and traced it with your fingertips and he shuddered at the feather light touch.

It was older, you could tell, but recently recolored; you hadn’t seen a design this bright and reminiscent of Lisa Frank since the early 2000s.

“I wanted something fun and colorful, so this is what I got.”

The main part was the pink butterfly with blue swirls meant to be the wind and colorful stars and a second smaller butterfly in blue and yellow, it was so cute and bright and vibrant, and you leaned down to kiss it gently.

“It’s beautiful, Dee.”

He was about to get cheeky, even you could see it on his face, when Frankie opened the door with a chuckle.

“You two aren’t having fun without me, are you?”

He put his toothbrush back and you climbed out of the shower after Dee turned off the water, your boyfriend and your lover –since you had no idea what the hell you three were right now- both stepping out since Dee needed to do less than you to get ready. He had mentioned his agent and PR team’s request not to touch his hair or facial hair, aside from tidying up his mustache, since they wanted his stylist to handle it. They also didn’t want him mentioning you or Frankie as to why he’d chosen to do a rehab program but that you could understand.

The media had a hard enough time accepting his status as a bisexual man, if he announced he was in a poly relationship it would be a mess.

You dressed for work as you turned these thoughts over in your head, sitting down at the table to your favorite morning drink and breakfast waiting for you as Frankie put together your lunch and Dee was washing dishes. They sent you off with a promise that they weren’t going to do anything without you, and even your coworkers mentioned how good of a mood you were in today.

“So, uh, what is it that we’re doing?”

Dee’s question was soft as he lay curled in your arms with Frankie behind you, you’d laughed when Dee had called you his big spoon and insisted that you were a jetpack because it was cooler and the laughter had tapered off into a comfortable silence. Until now, at least, as one of you finally addressed the thing you’d been putting off.

“You mean what label are we giving ourselves?” Frankie’s question was soft and Dee nodded, his hands tucked close to his face as Sparkler lay curled against his chin, and the kitten was purring away as you hummed against Dieter’s hair.

“I’m serious about this, about both of you.” Your voice was firm, which was odd given that this had been something plaguing you for so long, but it seemed that was what both men needed.

“I am too, this is- I’m better with both of you.” Dee’s whisper was just a touch louder now and you squeezed his hip gently as a non-verbal reply.

“You two are it for me. The only thing I worry about is, well, Adelia.” Frankie’s soft confession made you tip your head back to bump his forehead gently with the back of your head, you’d met his daughter already plenty of times along with his ex, but you could understand him being worried about Dee’s reaction to taking on a role of such importance in the life of a kid.

That and Paulette hadn’t been handling Frankie being in a relationship easily, fighting harder against his custody attempts since she was informed, so if she got wind of Frankie being poly there was no way that she wouldn’t use that against him. It had been pretty ugly recently, something Dee knew, but the fact that he was here still had to mean something.

“I’m okay being ‘Uncle’ to her, if you don’t want her to know about us.” Dee’s acceptance of keeping the three of them a secret from Adelia made Frankie tense up behind you, the hand over yours on Dee’s hip tightening, and you hummed softly.

“We have plenty of time to figure that out, since you’re leaving tomorrow for your return to Hollywood, for now though… is it safe to say you’re both my boyfriends?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.” With Sparkler in the room neither of the two were going to start anything, the kitten had proven to be quite the little menace at interrupting their attempts to get frisky over the week, and Dee had been very dramatic about scarring his baby’s poor eyes the one time she’d managed to slip into the bedroom because he hadn’t closed the door all the way. So you just let yourself be comfortable that this was real between you three, that it wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing and was actually real.

Dee looked good, his hair was trimmed and styled and he was wearing a blue suit with a purple shirt and a tie that was dark but caught the light and shimmered pink, and you had to grin at the open representation of the bi-flag in his coloring. But what really made you laugh was the fact that Sparkler had a little tie of her own and a navy blue and purple dress, even Frankie was laughing loudly when he stepped into the room to watch the interview.

“I cannot believe he got a matching outfit for her.”

“Firecracker he’s going to get her matching everything, calling it now.”

You laughed again and nodded, knowing how Dieter could be.

“Honestly, that man, he’s lucky he’s so fucking cute.”

You quieted as the applause did, eager to hear everything since you had no clue what any of the talk-show hosts could have been given to prompt him about.

“Dieter Bravo, look at you all cleaned up. I am impressed. Not to sound rude but when word got out you were still using after the, uh, Cliff Beasts fiasco that’s not a step I thought you would have taken.”

“Thank you, it certainly wasn’t easy. But I’m glad that I did, I was dealing with more than I thought I was.”

“The business certainly does punch hard, that’s for sure, look how many celebrities turn to talk show hosting to stay relevant.”

A laugh was shared here given that the host of the show had once been a movie star, much like Dieter, and you felt Frankie chuckle at your back as you reclined against him. While you weren’t usually a fan of self-depreciating humor it wasn’t done in a way that made the host seem bitter or seeking sympathy.

“Who knows, maybe soon I’ll get to be your co-host. But, in all honesty, I guess my biggest challenge was realizing the kind of damage I was doing to myself. Not just to my career or reputation but to potential personal relationships too.”

“That’s right, your last girlfriend left you when you didn’t stay clean as I recall?”

“You’re right; Anika was very open about why she left me.”

“Is this an attempt to win her back?

Frankie stiffened a little, as if the idea that Dieter’s ex would try to appear hadn’t occurred to him, but you squeezed his hand in yours gently.

“No, no, she wasn’t willing to even try and help me get to the root of the problem. I met, well, a friend on set of my last film who actually worked with me to find a rehab facility that would both handle the drug problems and find out if it was a problem deeper than just addiction.”

“A friend? Or a friend?”

“Friend, I’m not looking to broadcast anything romantic in the near future this fresh out of rehab.”

“Smart choice, Dieter, a very smart choice. Then should we expect a lot of upcoming projects?”

“Actually yes.”

You felt Frankie’s grip on your hand tighten, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand gently, and you knew he was just as sad about that as you were. But you already had two weekend trips to Texas planned and Dieter had planned two trips back to you both in return, all carefully planned around the weekends Frankie would have Adelia.

Dee and the host talked about his newest role in the Western he was filming, about learning to ride horses for the part, and then about the planned TV series following that where he would be a short-tempered bodyguard for a scientist. Naturally he was the romantic lead but you knew, the same way Frankie knew, that you both would be on his mind the entire time. You hoped, at least.

He was ridiculous but you hardly cared, Sparkler was scampering off the second she was set down after Dee took her little heart-shaped glasses off her face that matched his, and since the door was already closed he didn’t hesitate to pull you in for a kiss. Frankie was finishing up an emergency job for Will, otherwise he would have been here, and Dee chuckled against your mouth as you tugged him toward the bedroom.

Your boyfriend was just as worked up as you were though and he was gentle as he began playing with your clit while you two made out, clothes being haphazardly tugged off and thrown around, and had your legs around Dee’s shoulders as he pressed into you by the time Frankie was walking through the bedroom door. But his eyes were sparkling with excitement instead of stern warning and Dee moaned when Frankie pulled his head back by his hair to kiss him, the sight made you clench around Dee before you were rocking hard against his hips as Frankie began to play with your clit.

“Think you can take us both, Firecracker?”

The idea was exciting; having both men fucking you, and Dee’s eyed dropped to look at you even as his head was still tipped back.

“I think she can, she’s got a pretty little plug in right now.”

Frankie’s eyes widened and he all put rolled you and Dee over himself, the lubed up plug had been Dee’s request and you’d been more than game at the idea of possibly catching Frankie off guard like this. You moaned as he tugged at the plug, not enough to pull it out but enough to stimulate it, and when you squirmed on top of Dee it was a low rumble of sound from Frankie that had you leaning forward and all but squealing when Frankie rid himself of his clothes quickly.

He was slow after he’d put a condom on and lubed himself up, after he removed the plug, being so damn gentle as he waited for your body to adjust to being so full. It was bordering painful because of how thick he was but you wanted this, both of them, after Dee being gone this long. Dee distracted you with his mouth, kissing you so insistently, and Frankie began mouthing at the back of your neck as you adjusted to the sensation as his hips rested against your body.

It didn’t take long for you to start squirming, a zing of pleasure shooting up your spine between Dee’s piercings and pubic bone rubbing against your clit while Frankie throbbed and his breathing pushed the softness of his belly into your back like you were being engulfed by him. Both men began to move, needing a moment to work out a proper rhythm, but once they had it you were gone.

Frankie’s thrusts weren’t hard but because he was so large they didn’t have to be and Dee’s piercings felt so different inside of you, and neither of them let your mouth be idle. One of them was always kissing you, even if it was a pain to crane your neck and reach Frankie’s mouth, and your first orgasm was liquid heat gushing around them and soaking the sheets. It felt like liquid fire in your veins, every nerve ending in your body was going off under your skin as if you’d gone numb all over and were regaining feeling everywhere, and your hands squeezed the sheets so tight you were certain they were going to rip.

But neither man stopped and your first orgasm rolled right into your second far too quick from their pace, leaving you panting and crying their names against Dee’s torso as he and Frankie worked in tandem to bring you back to that edge, and your third was more of a continuation of the second before both men were shuddering and coming hard as every muscle in your lower abdomen clamped down from over stimulation.

The chorus of their breathy moans, rumbling calls of your name, and whines of pleasure in your ears tapered off before you were being rolled onto your side and cradled between the two men. Held tightly as they could without entirely crushing you, and you knew why, you only had today and tomorrow before Dee was gone again so you both planned to make the most of it.

All Fics Taglist: @hardc0rehaylz @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @musings-of-a-rose @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @AynsleyWalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @MSWarriorBabe80

#kelly tag #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader

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wordsnwhiskey · 2 years

Text

AAAAAAAA KELLY!!! Love this mood board, loved the first part and can't wait for part two!! 😍😍

Sparks Fly - Masterlist

Summary: Five years ago you left Francisco Morales because of his drug addiction, and after luck swings in your favor to make you the backing role of a film you end up at a party with Dieter Bravo.

You never expected both of these men to want you, or each other.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader x Dieter Bravo

Notes and Warnings: This wasn't going to be a series. But now it is because I have a bunch of enablers who keep hyping these three up and we've had numerous thotting sessions about them. This post is where you can find the reference to his tattoo mentioned in the second chapter. Also very heavily inspired after devouring "Like a River" by @radiowallet at least 300 times so if you haven't read that you should 💙

Chapter List

Part One: Never Really Over

Part Two: Boom Clap

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wordsnwhiskey · 2 years

Video

#omg a babyyyyy #the blep

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wordsnwhiskey · 2 years

Text

Bobadin AU: they own this city, and you owe them money

#OMG I'M FERAL FOR THIS #ALSO?!!!#I love the green accent on Din's SUIT?!?!? jdlds;fjklsFJLDS #bobadin #AMAZING #art #wordsnthings in the q

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wordsnwhiskey · 2 years

Note

BIRDIE!!! JFDSL:jfsld FERAL EZRA MY BELOVED 😍😍😍

HIM BEING SO CAREFUL WITH HER AAAAAAAAA

The anger in him, the possessiveness, GOT ME SWOONING. Ugh your writing is so freaking incredible, I could feel the way he felt with the anger and the guilt and how he wanted to reassure her, in that feral possessive way that only Ezra can truly do?!

His words coming back to haunt him because he said them in fear but then HIM BEING THERE AND NOT RUNNING TO SAY I LOVE YOU BACK FJSLFJ AAAAAAAAA

AND PLS THE SMUT HAD ME SCREAMING TOO. Truly Ezra is a vibe that just hits different and the way you write intimacy and smut with him? PERFECTION 😱😍

AND THEN THE FERAL NOISE I MADE AT THIS RIGHT HERE

UNHINGED EZRA MY BELOVED JFSLDJFLSD

AND HE TAKES TO A FANCY FRENCH RESTAURANT SIPPING WINE WHILE THEY DANCE AROUND HOW HE'D DO ANYTHING FOR THE PEOPLE HE LOVES JFKDSL;JFKDSLAJFDLSJFLDS;AJ KSJL;DS

IN CONCLUSION:

Does Dentist!Ezra ever think about your past relationships?

Does he ever.

And sometimes when they come back to haunt you, he ventures to make sure they never bother you again.

clarity

summary: Your past catches up with you. Ezra gains some perspective.

rating: E [warnings: SMUT; this got a little lot dark!; references to unhealthy/abusive past relationships, slight on-screen (??) violence, off-screen violence, dentist!Ezra is still indeed a killer, possessive Ezra, protective Ezra, vaginal fingering with a regular arm and also a metal arm, some little hints of alcohol use]

pairing: dentist!ezra x f!reader

word count: ~2.4k

note: Well, since Pedro is playing the role of an absolutely fucknuts dentist...I mean, I had to do a little something. And I've been thinking about this part of their story for a while, so here it is! Thanks to @lowlights for assuring me this is not terrible and also coming with the title. I still can't tell how happy I am with it, but hopefully it works. Also all my love to @wordsnwhiskey for making this PERFECT gif like 5 seconds before I threw this to the wind. Taglist rb in the morning. <3

It was a little thing at first, the dotted bruise that wrapped your upper arm. It could have been a tattoo from far away; something born of drunken decision making and youth. The problem came a few days later as the little circles bloomed out, bleeding into each other as they spread over your skin like deep purple roses, tinged yellow on the rim.

The grocery store shouldn’t be so eventful, but your ex made sure it was.

It’d been over a year since you’d plucked up the courage to walk away from him. He’d never been violent, but some long-forgotten survival instinct clawed its way to the surface and screamed that it was only a matter of time. It took you much too long to listen.

He curled his lip when he saw you in the cereal aisle, all alone, and called your name. Your fight or flight abandoned you—instead you gripped the handle of the cart so hard the skin of your knuckles stretched taut on your fingers and gave a tight-lipped smile.

He’d picked a fight immediately, accused you of keeping his possessions, but you didn’t know what he was talking about. You’d given everything back to him when you moved from the house you’d shared with him.

You didn’t need a guitar he didn’t play, or some signed memorabilia.

When your body remembered it could leave, that it didn’t have to put up with him anymore, you turned to flee, abandoning your cart for some poor grocery store worker to deal with. But he grabbed you as you marched past, curling his fingers too hard around your bicep.

“Let me go,” you whispered, pulling your arm away. He grinned at you for too long, laughing as he let you go. It was over in thirty seconds.

The bruises showed up later in the evening, after you took a very long bath, trying to forget just how much he affected you. He proved harder to shake this time.

You thought of calling Ezra after it happened, but it seemed like a silly thing to bother him with. Your relationship with him was still nebulous, still so undefined that calling him in the middle of a workday when he was surely busy with patients seemed inappropriate.

You’d deal with it.

You’d told him all about your ex deep in the early morning hours after he’d kept you up, pulling you apart with the precision that made him so good at his job. It’d spilled out, part of that hazy afterglow when both your tongues were loose and sleepy. He’d had little to say afterwards, and you’d taken it for disinterest until he’d confessed a sharp, violent anger that he didn’t want to direct on you.

Maybe it should have scared you, but it didn’t. There’s a darkness in him you don’t prod at; a story you’ve glued together with scraps he drops along the way. It seems so silly, though, to think that he’s done something bad—he’s a dentist, for Christ’s sake. How complicated could he be?

Today the bruises look worse than ever, and there’s no hiding them without long sleeves. The weather betrays your fleeting thoughts of a cardigan—it’s the middle of summer, and a terrible heat wave had planted itself over the area, refusing to let up. You wear a t-shirt, hoping the sleeves are long enough to keep the bruises from showing. There’s a gem show in town, and he wants to take you.

As murky as the terms of this relationship are, he doesn’t hide you away or pretend you’re not together. He holds your hand and shows you off, introduces you to people he knows. You’re not a secret, at least.

You make it to the venue, a large warehouse on a quiet side of town that rents space to traveling exhibits and festivals. The lighting bounces off a million shiny rocks and you’re almost to a point where his attention will be anywhere but your arm. Almost.

He puts his arm around you and squeezes you with metal fingers that rarely hurt. He doesn’t miss the muffled “Ah!” you let out.

“What’s wrong?” Ezra asks. There’s no use lying to him. He can see right through you.

“It’s nothing, really,” you say, eyes cast downward because you never were much of a liar. But he lifts your sleeve with all the gentleness he can muster and frowns. He counts four bruises, evenly space on your outer arm. He turns it a bit to find the fifth, the largest one, dug into soft flesh. Ezra whispers your name, and you shake your head.

“It’s not a big deal,” you protest. “Let’s just look at the crystals.”

“Who did this to you?” He asks.

You sigh. Ezra will ask and ask until you tell him.

“Remember that ex I told you about?” You ask, repeating his name. There’s a flash of recognition in Ezra’s eyes, and then that same fierce rage.

“He touched you?”

So you recount what happened at the grocery store in the middle of this warehouse, gems and crystal glittering all around you. He doesn’t say much, doesn’t interrupt. He cradles your forearm across to his chest, careful to avoid rubbing your bruised upper arm.

“When was this altercation?” Ezra asks softly.

“A few days ago,” you admit.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

A fair question. You’d talked to him since it happened. But now hardly seems like the time to explain to him that you didn’t know if it would be an imposition. That didn’t want to bother him. He isn’t your partner or your husband, he’s just a guy you’re sleeping with who happens to be your dentist.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you finally say, which is true. His mouth drops slightly open in surprise.

“Birdie,” he murmurs, at a loss for words, once again. He slots his fingers between yours and tugs you toward the entrance. “We should talk elsewhere.”

Guilt sears hot across his chest, pushing against the anger already threatening to break through.

Someone had touched you. Some devil, a blight on this Earth, left bruises on your body out of anger, and you didn’t want to bother him about it.

He drives you back to his office and ushers you up the stairs to his home. You like his couch—it’s blue velvet, procured from an antique store far from this town—so he parks you there, pulling you between his legs and against his chest, damp and warm from the heat of the day, hoping to melt the stress from your body.

Normally he touches you more intimately, with your legs spread open and your pretty pussy on display for him, but this is not the time. He kisses the back of your neck, though, waiting for you to speak.

“I didn’t…” You start, chewing your lip. “You said you couldn’t promise anything, and that was it. So I didn’t know.”

He remembers what he said in the spring, the panic that bubbled in his chest when he realized he’d pulled you into his orbit and didn’t want to let you go. His poor attempt to keep you at arm’s length.

“Let’s get it straight now, then,” he murmurs in your ear, heart hammering in his chest. The thought of another man thinking he could mark you in violence with no consequences sets Ezra’s teeth on edge; signals flaring to the most primal part of his lizard brain—you’re his. You’re his and no one else’s. He’s too selfish to give you up. The very least he can do is make sure you feel safe enough to tell him when you’ve been hurt. He nudges his nose along the back of your neck and sucks a little mark of his own. “You belong to me. Whatever you take that to mean, little rose. You call upon me when you need to, do you hear me? Whenever that may be.”

You lean back and sigh against him.

“You said you couldn’t promise anything,” you murmur.

“I’m a liar,” he rasps, turning your head so he can reach your lips with his own. “Forgive me?”

You say nothing, whimpering as his hands glide over your torso, drifting underneath your shirt and up to squeeze your tits. He swallows each little sound, licking into your mouth and grunting as your hips lift in search of friction. He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, metal hand drifting lazily down your torso.

“Please,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

“Since you asked so sweetly,” he coos, unzipping your jeans. He settles his hands just above your mound, damp heat radiating from you.

“Forgive me,” he repeats, but the question of it is gone. You lift your hips again with a frantic nod, quivering underneath him.

He’d taken the metal arm off at first, worried about the bite of steel against your delicate skin, but then you ran your fingers up and down the cool length of his prosthetic and asked him to keep it on.

“It’s part of you,” you’d whispered. “And I want all of you.”

He takes his time with your clit, two fingers rubbing firm circles as you cry out, arms stretched behind your head and wrapping around his neck, winding through his hair and tugging.

“Oh,” he coos as he dips his fingers into your cunt. “You are wet, aren’t you?”

Another frantic nod pulls a chuckle from him. You get so needy. He pulls his hand from your jeans, reveling in the whimper you let out. “Look how wet you are for me.” He pulls his fingers apart, marveling at a string of your slick joining them together. You watch with wide eyes as he brings it to his mouth and moans at you taste.

“Ezra-a-a,” you whine, and he knows what you want.

“You want them inside?” He murmurs, licking the shell of your ear. The position is uncomfortable for him, crouched forward as he is to reach your lower half, but it doesn’t matter. You melt into him like this.

He can’t feel his two metal fingers stretching you open, but he can feel the movement of you fucking yourself on them, grinding your hips down, down, down, filling yourself with them. One day he wants to get you so wet you let him put his whole fucking hand in there. He wants to see how wide your little pussy stretches, how far you’ll go for him. He wants to push, push, push, just to see if you’ll come back.

“There,” you whimper. “There!”

He crooks his fingers forward, rubbing your stiff, wet clit at the same time. He feels the suction of your pussy as you come, his name spilling from your lips, high pitched and breathy.

“You bloom so beautifully for me, little rose,” he says, fingers still in the mess you’ve made, kissing your neck with reverence he has for no one else. You lay your head back and look up at him with glassy eyes, like you meant to cry. “What troubles you, kitten?”

You worry your bottom lip, chest still heaving with the aftershocks of your release. He pulls his hands back, licking you off of him again. You taste like musk and honeysuckle.

You turn in his arms and gather his hands in yours.

“Ezra,” you say. “I love you.”

He thought he would run from it. He thought it would scare him—and it does. It frightens him to his core, your words tearing through any defense he may have had and piercing his heart.

Ezra is a liar, but he doesn’t want to be. Not to you.

“And I love you, little rose,” he says. He has no quip, no anecdote, no line of poetry—there are no words he could say that would add to this moment. Instead, he crawls over your body, pressing his mouth to yours. He makes a promise he intends to keep, a contract signed with his tongue laving over your kiss-swollen lips.

You don’t hear from your ex after that.

In fact, no one hears from him. For months. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the planet.

The police question you, of course. He’d gone missing only a couple of weeks after you’d seen him last.

“And your new boyfriend?” The detective asks. “He have any reason to talk to this ex you didn’t get along with?”

“Why would he?” You ask. Your confusion is genuine—what would Ezra have to do with any of this?

The detective shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says. His cryptic words wash over you, little alarm bells ringing in your head. The detective tell you he’ll be in touch.

There’s a vigil for him. Hundreds of people gather in a church parking lot. His parents—who never liked you, either—sob to the public, begging someone to come forward. You opt not to attend.

Instead, Ezra takes you to dinner—a French restaurant you’ve never been to before. He distracts you with stories of college. Before he became a dentist, when he wanted to travel the world.

You ask about Cee.

“How did you meet?”

Ezra takes a sip of his cabernet Sauvignon and swirls it around, sucking his teeth after he swallows.

“I hired her a few years ago,” he says, dodging the question and drumming his fingers on the table. He wants to change the subject. You say nothing, because he’ll admit it, sooner or later.

He relents.

“Cee needed a place to live, once upon a time. She was a little girl in a bad situation. I got her out of it.” You don’t press for more information, but he gives it to you. “Her father…” He trails off, looking at you with pleading brown eyes that—ask no more of me.

“You’re very protective of the people you love, aren’t you?”

He sips his wine again and nods. “You could say there are no lengths I wouldn’t go to keep my kindred safe, little rose.”

The darkness that had surrounded the table lifts as you leave that line of questioning alone.

He makes love to you when you get home, slow and patient, unraveling you like twine, successfully distracting you from anything else.

“How are you feeling, kitten?” He asks later, and you burrow into his sweaty chest.

“Safe,” you murmur, and he breathes out a shaky sigh.

#birdie is my sweetie #ezra prospect #dentist!ezra

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wordsnwhiskey · 2 years

Text

JFLSDJFS EXCUSE YOU HOW DARE YOU!! I love this so freaking much! Love them coming together, dealing with their trauma and how they each bring something to balance the others. The analogy of a square? SO PERFECT

Frankie being dominant and the only one who can get Jack to stop talking? FUCK YES!

PERO BELOVED BEING POSSESSIVE 😍😍😍😍

JACK MAKING THE FIRST MOVE WITH HER!! JFK:LFJLDSFS

This was so GOOD and so HOT! I loved it!!!

Euclidean Geometry

Summary: They make no attempt to define what this is, who they are to each other. All they know is that now they are together.

Pairing: Modern!Pero x Frankie x Jack x f!reader (sort of, this is in the third person, reader is referred to only as she/her)

Rating: E 🚨 absolutely no minors

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: smut, M/M and M/M/F; some implied D/s dynamics; allusions to the lingering trauma of military service

A/n: I don’t know what this is (other than absurdly self-indulgent nonsense), but this idea hooked its claws into me and this is what resulted. It’s just kind of a series of snapshots, really. No plot, just vibes. There may be more after this, we’ll see.

Masterlist.

———

They don’t meet each other until after their time in the service.

Thank god, Pero tells them. I surely would have otherwise murdered you both long before now.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one: three veterans walk into group therapy…

A Delta Force pilot in recovery. A surly Field Artillery officer. A cocky Air Force fighter pilot with a name as ridiculous as his skills in a jet. All here because they are each too full of anger with nowhere to put it.

Talking at therapy turns into talking at a bar after each session. They circle each other, like a pod of killer whales, or maybe like galaxies, pulling closer and closer together over bottles of beer and games of pool.

None of them can say the exact moment it became more. Was it the first time Jack accidentally brushed a hand across the small of Frankie’s back as they walked out of the bar one night, and he felt the shiver that went up the other man’s spine? Was it the night Pero finally spoke about the loss of his first love, his description of William and his death on a desert battlefield making all three men shed silent tears in the privacy of a dark corner booth? Surely it had to have been long before they found themselves in Jack’s bed that first time, letting their bodies say what they could not yet find words for: I want you, I trust you, I know you, I see you.

They make no attempt to define what this is, who they are to each other. All they know is that now they are together.

They each crack the others open, the process of healing as painful and beautiful as filling in their scars with gold.

And then there is her.

The relationship between the three men had not been a closed loop, not at first. There had been times where one of them (Jack, more often than the others) had gone off and for a one- or two- or (never more than) three-night stand with another person. And there had been other times where two or even all three of them had shared a temporary partner. But with her, it clicks, it solidifies. They stop searching for more, for new, for other.

If three’s a crowd, what is four? A square, a shape beautiful in its simple perfection, a shape that can only be composed of equals - each line and each angle taking up equivalent space, none more or less important than any of the others, and each one essential.

It’s her, Frankie says. I never thought I could need or want more than the two of you, but it’s her. Now we fit. Now we are complete. Now I understand.

It’s a push and pull.

She worries, at first, about being the outsider, the civilian. These men have known too much, seen too much, lost too much. They may not have served together, but they have a connection to each other in a way she knows she will never share. Isn’t she selfish for wanting all of them? What if she’s intruding?

Never, darlin’, Jack promises her.

They always worry about it being too much, of them being too much, in her life and especially in her bed. What woman would accept any one of them, with their still-open wounds and their ghosts and their raw, ragged edges, let alone all three of them? But with her there is light and warmth and laughter and quiet reassurance. And the way she cries and begs for them when they have her naked against cool sheets - needy and eager and so, so wet - means they always give in to her.

———

To the extent that there is an alpha, it’s Frankie, his quiet, unassuming manner giving way to something both commanding and depraved when given an appropriate outlet.

She comes home one day to find Frankie on the edge of the bed, Jack in his lap with Frankie’s cock buried inside him and Jack’s hands tied behind his back with his own whip. She can’t see from the doorway to know for sure, but from the way Frankie’s arm moves and the slick repetitive sound she suspects he has his palm wrapped around Jack’s cock.

I think Pero’s about to have dinner ready, she says. Frankie doesn’t look away from Jack’s face.

Thanks, baby, Frankie murmurs. We’ll be done here in a minute.

Jack says nothing. Frankie is the only man capable of rendering him speechless.

———

Some things linger from their time in the military. They rise early without fail and without alarms. They note the exits of any room they enter. They are a unit.

She introduces a necessary messiness into their lives. They can’t make the bed the way years of routine make them itch to when she’s still fast asleep in it long after they’ve woken up. And that’s okay - the rigidity of the Army, the Air Force, isn’t their lives anymore. Not if they don’t want it to be. Slowly, first through therapy and then through each other, they learn how to let certain things go.

They are, the four of them, deeply loyal and fiercely protective of one another. But Pero, more than any of the others, is possessive. He feels it like a dark, smouldering ember in his heart that flares hot and angry at any perceived threat. He worries, sometimes, not wanting it to fester into something unhealthy and poisonous. It manifests in the marks he leaves on their skin, the outline of his teeth sunk into the meat of Frankie’s shoulder and Jack’s chest, purple bruises sucked into their girl’s throat, her breasts, her thighs…

There are moments where he allows it out of its cage, this need to lay claim. Moments where the others are tangled together and Pero sits apart, content to observe. Moments where their girl writhes between Frankie and Jack, stretched wide on both their cocks, all three of them panting with that heady mix of exertion and pleasure.

Another, Pero growls from his place in the corner armchair. Make her come again.

She lets out a breathy whine as Jack reaches around her to rub at her clit with one hand, the other pulling Frankie close for a lazy kiss. Pero slowly strokes his own hard length, that feeling of possession now shot through with pride. She turns her head in his direction and reaches for him, their girl (his girl) full to the brim and still needing him.

He indulges her, coming close and planting one knee on the bed beside them. He threads his fingers through Jack’s hair and tugs, just the way he knows the other man likes, and trails his other hand down Frankie’s sweat-slicked back to tease between his cheeks.

You’re doing so well, my loves, he rumbles quietly to each of them.

Some things simply are, and they are his.

———

It was Jack who had first approached her, timing his trip up to the bar for another round at the same time as hers.

She’d caught the attention of all three of them, an unprecedented feat. Something in the way she’d laughed at something one of her friends had said, perhaps, or maybe they were all just tipsy enough to find the fluid grace with which she maneuvered herself into and out of the booth she was sitting in unusually compelling. Whatever the explanation, they could not look away.

Go on, cowboy, Frankie had nudged Jack. Shoot your shot.

Jack had sauntered up to the bar, an odd fluttering of nerves taking up residence in his rib cage.

A greeting, a grin, a wink.

You know what they say about fighter pilots, darlin’?

A smile.

They play a lot of beach volleyball?

———

And now he has her, now he has them, this thing he never thought he’d get to have again.

Jack, more than Frankie or Pero, craves softness. His head resting in one of their laps as they rest on the couch. Cradling their girl in his lap while she reads. A comforting touch. A soothing word. The others reaching straight through the facade of bluster and bravado to his heart and saying easy now.

They stand, the four of them, as sentinels, watching over one another.

What do you need, three will ask one.

You, they always reply. You, you, you.

#leslie tag!#jack daniels #frankie morales #pero tovar

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