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Mel had begun to notice it in the quieter moments, when the unit wasn’t buzzing with codes or IV alarms. Frank chewed. He chewed a lot.
Not food, not just gum—just whatever he could get his hands on apparently. Pen caps, coffee stirrers, the cuff of a new glove if he thought no one was looking. It wasn’t constant, but it was enough to tell her it wasn’t maybe just a quirk. It was a need, something wired into the way he carried his restlessness.
She’d caught herself watching him once, half-hidden behind the charting desk. He sat across from her, scribbling notes, jaw tight as he gnawed on the wood of a pencil. His eyes flicked over the paper, sharp and focused, but his mouth worked like the motion was automatic, something his body did while his brain raced miles ahead. He probably didn’t even realize what he was doing, let alone that it probably wasn’t the most hygienic thing ever.
The sight stirred something in her chest—protective, tender. Most people probably hadn’t noticed. Or worse—they would have laughed and made a joke of it. But Mel knew better. She knew some habits weren’t silly at all.
That night, lying in bed with the blue glow of her phone painting the ceiling, she typed the search almost without thinking: discreet chew necklace for adults. Simple enough. She scrolled past bright colors and childlike designs until she found one discreet enough—flat, black, and matte, strung on a plain cord. Nothing flashy. It could pass for some functional little gadget clipped to his badge, or stay tucked beneath his scrub top where no one would think twice. She wasn’t hesitant in ordering it.
When it arrived, she didn’t give it to him right away. For three whole days, it stayed zipped into the side pocket of her bag, the small box pressing against her notebook every time she reached in. She thought about walking up to him, just handing it over, maybe even teasing lightly to soften the edges. But every time she pictured his face—his quick defenses, the way he sometimes bristled when he felt too seen by their coworkers—her courage faltered. He didn’t need pity. He just needed privacy.
The chance finally came on a Tuesday, near the end of a long shift. The locker room was empty, quiet except for the steady drip of a shower two stalls over. She pulled his locker open (she knew his code by heart, since he lent her extra clothes now and then), heart hammering, and set the box carefully on the top shelf, half-hidden among his scrubs.
No note. No name. Just a quiet offering.
By the time she closed the metal door, her pulse was thudding in her throat like she’d just run stairs.
Two days later, she finally saw it. Frank was in the breakroom, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, chewing on something dark. Not gum. Not plastic. For a flicker of a second, his eyes lifted and caught hers.
Mel forced her face into careful neutrality, as if she hadn’t noticed a thing. She looked away, poured herself coffee, and stirred too long just to keep her hands busy. But she felt the shift in the air between them, subtle but unmistakable—his shoulders uncoiling just slightly, his expression softening in a way that looked suspiciously like relief threaded with gratitude.
He didn’t say a word and neither did she.
And that was the point. His secret was safe with her.
+
It didn’t stop with the first necklace. She couldn’t stop once she got started.
Over the next few weeks, Mel slipped him others— necklaces, pencil toppers; different textures, different shapes—always tucked into his locker and never with a note.
She didn’t want him to feel too observed, but she couldn’t stop herself. It became its own small ritual: finding something that might help, leaving it where only he’d find it, and watching—without watching—to see if he used it.
And he did. Every time.
One night, after a brutal shift, a few of them went to the park across from the hospital to catch their breath. The summer air was sticky, cicadas buzzing in the trees, and everyone sprawled on benches and grass with no care. Samira was halfway to passing out whereas Trinity still found the time to harass Dennis into shotgunning a beer. Mel sat with a cold bottle of water in hand, trying to pretend she wasn’t watching Frank out of the corner of her eye.
Langdon was leaning back on his elbows, legs stretched out, fiddling absently with something at the base of his throat. It took her a moment to realize what it was—the first necklace she’d given him, the matte black piece swinging gently against his scrub top as his fingers worried the edges.
He wasn’t even chewing it, just sweetly holding on, like it was a lifeline. Something about the sight tugged at her heart.
Warmth pooled under her ribs before she could stop it. He didn’t know it was from her. Maybe he had assumptions, but he’d never know. He never would. And yet, the quiet comfort it seemed to bring him—she felt lucky to witness it.
Later, when most of their coworkers had drifted home, she ended up walking with him to a late-night diner. They slid into a booth bench together, both looking too tired to be upright but unwilling to part ways just yet.
She ordered a hot tea, he ordered a soda, and while they waited he unwrapped the straw and slipped it between his teeth, chewing gently as if it were second nature.
Mel’s eyes caught on the motion, then drifted—against her better judgment—to the angle of his sharp jaw. The way the muscles flexed when he bit down, the faint shadow of stubble that never quite disappeared no matter how clean-shaven he was at the start of a shift. She wondered if it was as strong as it looked.
She went quiet, heart thudding, startled by the wave of attraction that hit her out of nowhere. It wasn’t new, not really, but it was sharper tonight. Stronger. And harder to hide. She crossed her legs and tried blinking away her thoughts.
Frank noticed her silence and tilted his head, straw still between his teeth. “You okay, Mel?”
She nodded too quickly, fumbling for her coffee cup when it arrived. “Yeah. Just tired is all.”
But her eyes betrayed her—lingering a half-second too long on the line of his throat before she looked down.
+
Mel never told him. Never admitted that the necklaces in his locker, the chewable pen caps that appeared in the supply drawer, the little packets of sugar-free gum that showed up in the breakroom fridge with no name—those were from her.
It was easier to let him believe they’d just…turned up. Easier than risking that flicker of embarrassment she’d seen in him before when someone caught on to one of his habits.
But something shifted in him over those weeks. Frank started drifting closer, his orbit tightening around her without either of them naming it. He would drop into the chair beside hers during charting, his shoulder brushing hers, casual like he didn’t notice. He lingered at her side after rounds and walked with her to her locker despite him already being clocked out.
Sometimes, when he was tired, he’d lean against the wall next to her and let his arm graze hers like the contact steadied him.
It wasn’t dramatic, it probably wasn’t even deliberate—but Mel felt it all the same. Felt it when he chewed absently on a straw in a restaurant booth, his knee pressed just close enough to hers under the table that she had to hold her breath. Felt it in the way his hand brushed her lower back in crowded hallways, gentle and grounding as he guided her through shared cases.
And every time she saw one of the gifts she’d left for him in his hands or around his neck, something warm and quiet unfurled in her chest. He probably didn’t know. He couldn’t know. But the fact that he kept them close, that he used them—it meant something.
Sometimes she caught herself staring too long, her gaze tugged by the flex of his jaw as he chewed, or the curve of his mouth when he finally, finally relaxed after a long shift. She’d look away quickly, cheeks hot, hiding behind a sip of coffee or the glow of a computer screen. He never called her out on it. Maybe he didn’t notice.
And that was fine.
It was enough, for now, to be the quiet hand behind the things that made him feel safer in his own skin. Enough to know she’d given him a little piece of ease, even if he never knew where it came from.
+
It happened one night after another brutal shift, the kind that left everyone half-dead on their feet. The unit finally falling quiet, Mel sank into a chair at her desk, willing her pulse to slow. A moment later, Frank dropped heavily into the seat beside her, so close their sleeves brushed.
He chewed quietly on the edge of a silicone cap—one of the newer ones she’d slipped into his locker just last week—and stared at the blank monitor in front of him like it might blink first. For a long time, neither of them spoke. Just the soft hum of the machines in the background and the faint squeak of shoes down the hall.
Then he let out a breath, low and raw. “I don’t know why, but I feel sort of steadier lately. Like I can breathe easier here. It’s not as hard to get through the day.” His voice was rough with exhaustion, but his words carried a weight that made her chest tighten. He turned his head slightly, giving her a faint, crooked smile. “Guess it’s ‘cause I’m not alone anymore.”
Mel swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. She felt the same way about him. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. But the way he said it—soft, honest, almost vulnerable—lodged somewhere deep inside her. She forced herself to smile back, casual, like her heart wasn’t thundering. “That’s good, Frank. I’m glad.”
He hummed in agreement, and then—without thinking—he leaned sideways until his shoulder rested against hers. Heavy, warm. Like he needed the contact to stay upright. He didn’t move for a long time, didn’t apologize or make it a joke. Just simply rested there, chewing softly, as if being near her was more than enough for him.
And it wasn’t only that night. He started seeking her out more often, almost unconsciously.
He’d trail after her when they left the locker room, walking her to her car even if his was parked on the other side of the lot. He’d fall into step beside her when she grabbed coffee, leaning a little too close as they stood in line together. In meetings, his arm always found the back of her chair, fingertips brushing the edge of her shoulder. It was never much, never inappropriate—but it was constant, anchoring.
The more gifts she left, the more attached he seemed to become, though he never verbally made the connection. And Mel, for her part, said nothing.
She just carried the quiet knowledge, tucked away like a secret only she could hold: that she had given him these little tools, these pieces of comfort, and in return, he’d begun giving her something she hadn’t expected at all, at least not so quickly. His nearness. His trust.
And though she knew she should guard her heart, every time his shoulder brushed hers, every time his hand hovered at the small of her back, she felt herself falling anyway.
+
Her first day off in nearly two weeks should have felt like pure relief.
Mel slept late, made herself a real breakfast, and even managed to fold laundry before noon. But by early afternoon, her phone was buzzing while she was preparing a small lunch.
It was Frank.
He started with a question about a patient they’d discharged days ago, something he already knew the answer to. She humored him, smiling at the sound of his voice, but when he called again an hour later—this time about charting, of all things—she realized it wasn’t about the questions.
By his third call, she heard it in his tone. That restless edge seeping into his tone. The way he rushed through words, like he couldn’t sit still in his own skin.
“You doing okay?” she asked softly, interrupting his ramble about a new nurse who couldn’t find the saline flushes.
There was a pause. Then, quieter: “It’s just different. You’re not here. Kinda feels like I’m…running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Like I’m missing something,”
The words shouldn’t have struck her the way they did. She leaned against her kitchen counter, her grip on the phone tightening, her chest warm with a mixture of ache and tenderness.
“I’m sorry, Frank,” she murmured. “I didn’t think you’d miss me that much.”
He huffed out a laugh, embarrassed but not denying it. “Yeah, well. I do.”
When he called again that evening, she didn’t even let him finish his nervous chatter. He was talking about a man with a bug in his ear. “Frank,” she cut in gently, “do you want to come over tonight? Just to hang out? I don’t have plans, and I think we could use the company. But if you’re busy that’s okay!”
For a heartbeat, there was only silence on the line, and then he exhaled like someone letting go of a held breath. “Yeah,” he said, voice softer than she’d ever heard it. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’d love to see you,”
Mel pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, heart thudding as she looked around her apartment. It was suddenly too small, too personal—but the thought of him here, of giving him a place to land, outweighed every shred of hesitation.
By the time she hung up, she realized why her cheeks were hurting so much, her smile staying intact.
+
By the time Frank knocked on her door, Mel had convinced herself she’d imagined the need in his voice earlier. But then she opened it, and there he was— he had changed out of his scrubs into athletic wear, his hair mussed, and eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He looked like he’d been carrying the whole unit on his back.
“Hey,” he said, almost sheepish. “Hope I’m not—y’know. A pain coming over this late,”
“You’re not,” Mel assured, stepping aside. “Come in.”
He hesitated just inside the door, looking around like he wasn’t sure he belonged there. Mel busied herself with pouring him a glass of water, giving him time. When she turned back, he was standing awkwardly in her living room, hands in his pockets, chewing absently on a silicone cap. One of hers.
They settled on the couch, close but not touching. He downed the water in one go, set the glass on her coffee table, then leaned back with a groan.
“God, today was a mess, Mel,” he said. He loved to ramble and she loved to hear.
“A couple of codes back-to-back, then we have new residents running around like headless chickens, and Dana breathing fire because the board was stacked to high heaven. I kept waiting for you to show up and—” He cut himself off with a humorless laugh. “Guess I forgot you actually take days off.”
Mel smiled faintly, curling her legs beneath her. “But you survived.”
“Barely.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced at her, his expression softening. “It’s different without you there. I don’t know. Quieter, but not in a good way. Like I’m missing my balance or something.”
The words hit her square in the chest. She opened her mouth to answer but found herself caught instead on the tension in his body—the way his arm twitched as if he wanted to rest it along the back of the couch, the way his knee edged toward hers and then retreated.
He wanted closeness, she could feel it, but he was fighting himself.
Her heart squeezed. She wished she could just tell him it was okay, that he didn’t have to hold himself back with her. But the words stuck.
Instead, she shifted an inch closer, enough that their thighs brushed. His breath caught, almost imperceptible. He looked at her, eyes wide, waiting for the rejection that never came.
“You’re doing fine, Frank,” she said softly, surprising herself. Her hand twitched like she might touch his arm, but she stopped just short. “You’re a good boy.”
The words slipped out before she could call them back. Her cheeks flushed hot, and she ducked her gaze, praying he hadn’t noticed the way her voice had gone low, warm.
But he had. She could feel it in the air between them, charged now, humming with something she wasn’t supposed to want but did. His jaw flexed, his chewing stilled, and for a long, taut second neither of them moved.
Then, carefully, as if testing the waters, Frank let his arm fall along the back of the couch until his fingers brushed her bare shoulder. He didn’t push it further, didn’t make it a joke. He just touched, tentative but hungry, like the contact alone grounded him.
Mel’s pulse fluttered, her whole body alive to that small point of connection. She swallowed, forcing herself to breathe evenly, to act like this was normal. Like she hadn’t just invited something dangerous and thrilling into the room with a single slip of her tongue.
Her words hung between them, heavy and impossible to take back.
Good boy.
Mel wished she could swallow them whole, shove them back down her throat before he processed them. But it was too late. She felt the shift the instant his body went still beside her, his hand frozen where it barely brushed her shoulder.
He turned his head slowly, chewing forgotten, eyes locking on hers. His gaze wasn’t teasing, wasn’t skeptical. It was hungry. Searching.
“What did you just say?” His voice was low, careful, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right.
Mel’s breath stuttered. Heat crawled up her neck. She wanted to laugh it off, to play it down, but the weight in his eyes rooted her in place. “I—I didn’t mean—” She broke off, unable to finish the lie. Her pulse was wild. “I just meant…you’re doing good. You’re a good guy! You’re okay.”
But his mouth curved, not in mockery, but in something softer, rawer. He leaned in just slightly, so painfully close. “You called me a good boy.”
Her heart thudded, loud in her ears. She should deny it. She should brush it off. But the way he said it—like he was tasting the words for the first time and finding them sweeter than he expected—left her frozen.
He swallowed, jaw flexing. “I haven’t heard that in a long time.” His hand shifted, fingertips grazing the top of her arm with more certainty now, lingering. “It feels nice. Especially from you.”
Mel’s lips parted, but no words came. She was drowning in the intimacy of it—the way he was looking at her, open and unguarded, all his defenses stripped away. She hadn’t meant for this, but now that it was here, her chest ached with how badly she wanted to give in.
Her hand moved before her brain could stop it, brushing over the back of his where it rested on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steady enough. “You can…you can like it.” She wanted to reassure him.
Frank exhaled shakily, eyes pretty and wide. His hand slid down from her shoulder to cover hers fully, warm and heavy. He leaned closer, so close she thought he might kiss her. But instead, he pressed his forehead to her temple, breath shuddering against her skin.
“Careful, Mel,” he murmured. “You’re making it hard for me not to need you more than I already do.”
Her pulse skipped, heat flooding her cheeks. And she realized—with a mixture of fear and exhilaration—that she might not want him to hold back at all.
They didn’t cross the line that night.
After Frank’s forehead pressed to her temple and his hand covered hers, they sat in that heavy quiet, neither moving to deepen the moment.
He’d stayed close, leaned against her like he couldn’t quite let go, but eventually he sighed, squeezed her hand, and pulled back. Mel had walked him to the door with her heart still racing, both of them wordlessly agreeing not to push further that evening.
But the next shift, it was completely different.
Frank shadowed her from the moment they walked into work, his energy sharp but not restless the way it usually was. He carried her iPad for her. He put her scrub jacket in his locker when she was going on hour 8 of her shift.
He fetched supplies before she realized she needed them. Every time she turned around, he was there—opening a door for her, pushing a stretcher, standing at her side with that boyish half-grin that begged for acknowledgment.
“Got it, Mel,” he said when she asked for a saline flush, handing it over almost before the words left her mouth.
“Already stocked the cart,” he announced twenty minutes later, hovering in the doorway of the supply closet like a puppy waiting for praise.
She blinked at him, taken aback by the eagerness in his tone. “Oh. That’s good. Thank you, Frank.”
The smile he gave her then—bright, satisfied—made her stomach twist.
It didn’t stop there. During rounds, he leaned closer than usual, his arm brushing hers each time he pointed something out. He lingered by her side at the nurses’ station, chewing on his necklace while his knee knocked against hers under the desk. And every time she said “Good catch” or “Nice work,” his whole posture shifted, chest lifting like she’d given him something more precious than air.
By mid-shift, Mel realized what he was doing. She’d called him a good boy once—without thinking—and now he was chasing it. Chasing her.
When they wheeled a patient up to imaging, Frank deliberately kept pace with her, shoulder bumping hers lightly. “We make a good team, huh?” he said, glancing at her sideways.
Mel tried to ignore the warmth spreading through her chest. “We do,” she admitted softly.
His grin widened, his eyes searching her face like he wanted more, like he needed her to say it again. And she almost did. The words itched at the back of her throat.
Instead, she touched his forearm briefly, steadying herself as much as him. “You’re doing great today,” she said.
The way his breath hitched at that—barely audible but unmistakable—made her cheeks flush. He didn’t say anything, just stood taller, walked closer, like he’d been handed the thing he’d been waiting for all along.
And Mel realized then that whatever had sparked between them wasn’t fading. It was only growing, tugging them closer together.
+
The end of the shift found Mel more tired than she wanted to admit, but she wasn’t surprised to find Frank falling into step beside her on the way to the locker room. He’d been glued to her hip all day, after all—fetching, carrying, hovering, chewing absently on his necklace while stealing looks at her like a man waiting for permission.
Inside the locker room, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Mel opened her locker, pulling out her bag, while Frank leaned against the row of metal doors like he had nowhere else in the world to be.
“Did you see me today?” he asked, his voice casual, but his grin gave him away.
Mel shot him a glance over her shoulder. “I was with you all day,”
“Yeah but-“ He fiddled with the chew cap still hanging around his neck. “I was running around like some overachieving intern. Stocking carts, fetching supplies, sticking to you like glue. Thought maybe you’d notice.”
“I noticed,” Mel simply said, trying for even, though her cheeks warmed under his gaze. She didn’t want to give in too soon.
His grin widened, bright and boyish. “Good. ’Cause I was only doing it for you.”
She rolled her eyes lightly, shutting her locker. “Pretty sure the whole unit benefited, Frank. Definitely the patients,”
“Maybe,” he allowed, pushing off the lockers to close the space between them. “But I liked the way you said I was doing great. Made me wanna keep going.”
Her throat went dry. He was close now, too close, the space shrinking until she could smell the faint mix of soap and coffee clinging to him. He wasn’t touching her, not yet, but it was in the air between them—the want.
“You really thrive on praise, don’t you?” she said softly, teasing but not unkind.
He smirked, leaning down just enough that his breath tickled her ear. “Only when it’s from you.”
Mel’s pulse stuttered. She should pull back, make a joke, break the spell. But she didn’t. She stood her ground, heart hammering, eyes flicking to his jaw, his mouth.
“You’re impossible,” she murmured.
“Impossible,” he echoed, smiling as though the word pleased him. His fingers brushed the strap of her bag, not quite touching her shoulder. “But a good boy, right?”
Her breath caught. The heat in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing—teasing her, testing her, pulling at that slip she’d made last night until it unraveled into something dangerous. But there was just a small crack of insecurity in his tone.
Mel forced herself to exhale, steadying her voice. “Go home, Frank. Get some rest.”
He chuckled, stepping back just enough to give her space, but the smirk lingered. “Fine. But you’ll be back tomorrow. And I’ll be right back here, waiting for my gold star.”
She shook her head, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. He left first, still grinning, and Mel stood alone for a moment, her heart racing.
He was getting bolder. And she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to resist giving him exactly what he wanted.
+
By the next shift, Frank was absolutely relentless.
It started small: sitting next to her during pre-rounds, his knee brushing hers under the table, leaning in with a grin when she made notes on the board. Then, in the middle of a busy case, he fetched every supply she even glanced at, dropping them into her hands before she could ask.
“Am I your favorite nurse?” he murmured jokingly as he passed her gauze. Princess and Jesse side eyed each other, making Mel blush.
“Frank,” she warned, biting back a smile.
“C’mon. Admit it.” His eyes danced, daring her to deny it.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Wrong answer,” he teased, leaning so close she felt his breath. “Try again.”
Mel rolled her eyes, fighting heat in her cheeks. He was impossible, but she couldn’t help the flutter in her chest each time his attention fixed on her like that. It wasn’t just neediness anymore—it was devotion, eager and shameless, as if the only thing that mattered was earning her approval.
By the end of shift, though, the energy had changed.
A code came in too late—a teenage boy, involved in a car wreck, and bleeding too fast. His sobbing friend explained they both just recently turned sixteen and just wanted to go for a quick joy ride.
They worked the boy hard, the entire team, but it wasn’t enough. When the time of death was called, the silence was deafening. Everyone stood back, hollow-eyed, the adrenaline curdling into grief as they saw the body of a boy, who had just barely started living.
Mel peeled off her bloody gloves slowly, her hands trembling. She turned and found Frank watching her, already de-scrubbed, jaw tight, his necklace cord twisted around his fingers. He didn’t say a word, just stepped into her space and touched her elbow gently.
Robby gave the day shift the all clear after that. Night shift was swarming in.
“C’mon Mel,” he said quietly. “Let’s go home.”
She didn’t argue.
The ride was silent, the city lights sliding past the windows. When they reached her apartment, he followed her inside without asking, like it was the most natural thing in the world. They didn’t talk about the case, didn’t talk at all at first. She handed him a soda from her fridge, took an icy water for herself, and they sat on her couch in the hush of her living room, maybe too close together.
Only then did she notice how tightly wound he was. His leg bounced, his fingers drummed against the can, and his jaw clenched over and over. Finally, after a few minutes, he tugged the chewlery into his mouth, biting hard, his breath quickening like panic had crept in and he was losing his grip.
“Hey, Frank,” Mel said softly.
He shook his head, chewing harder. “I’m fine.” His voice was rough, unconvincing. “I’m fine. Just—need a minute. It’s fine.”
Her chest ached at the sight. He looked so strong at work, so steady for everyone else, but here—here he was unraveling, relying on the only tools he had to keep himself together. And she was the only one who was able to see it.
Mel reached over, laying her hand carefully on his arm. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You don’t have to be fine with me.”
He stilled, the necklace still between his teeth, eyes dropping to her hand. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he exhaled, shoulders sagging as the tension bled out of him. He leaned toward her, not quite resting against her but close enough that she felt the heat of him, the way he wanted the contact but was afraid to ask.
Her heart pounded, but she stayed steady, rubbing her thumb gently against his sleeve. “You’re here. You’re safe,” she whispered.
His chewing slowed. His breathing evened out. And when he finally let his head tip against her shoulder, heavy and unguarded, Mel let herself close her eyes too. For that moment, it didn’t matter what they were or weren’t. All that mattered was that he trusted her enough to fall apart where no one else could see.
Frank’s head stayed heavy against her shoulder, his breath evening out, but his jaw still worked around the chewlery. He shifted restlessly, pulling it free for a moment to mutter, “I hate this.”
Mel tilted her head toward him. “Hate what?”
He chewed the inside of his cheek instead, eyes darting away. “That I can’t sit still. That I always gotta chew, like I’m a kid who can’t calm down. I always have to be on the move. I thought rehab was supposed to fix me. I should be better than this.”
Her heart squeezed. He sounded so raw, so much younger than the confident, bantering Frank who owned every room at work.
“Frank,” she said gently, “needing something to help you cope doesn’t make you broken and you don’t need to be fixed. You’re only human.”
He gave a low, self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, well, it still makes me look like a mess.”
She shifted then, angling closer so he couldn’t hide his face. He looked at her reluctantly, jaw still tight, and she reached up without thinking, brushing his temple with her fingers until she cupped his cheeks. “You don’t look like a mess to me,” she murmured.
His breath caught, eyes locking on hers. He didn’t say anything, just leaned in closer, until his forehead touched hers. The silence stretched, his need for something—anything—to ground him humming in the air between them. She could practically feel it.
Mel hesitated only a moment before offering softly, “Here.” She lifted her hand, turning it palm-up, and touched her thumb lightly to his soft, bottom lip. “If it helps, you can.” She didn’t want to say it, in fear of taking this, whatever it was between them, a step too far.
Frank blinked at her, startled, like he couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. His lips parted, breath warm against her skin. “Mel…”
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe with me.”
For a long second, he hovered there, searching her eyes for any sign of mockery or pity. Finding none, he closed his mouth around her thumb, tentative at first, then with a quiet sigh that broke her heart and warmed it at the same time.
His whole body relaxed against hers, tension unwinding as he leaned into her touch. He went boneless and she found themselves settling comfortably on the couch.
Mel held her thumb still, letting him set the pace, her free hand stroking his hair lightly as he drew calm from the simple, vulnerable act. He was so close, curled into her like he’d been waiting forever for someone to let him need them this way.
And though her pulse thrummed with an ache she didn’t dare name, Mel only murmured, “That’s it- you’re such a good boy… just breathe for me.”
His answering shiver told her he’d heard every word.
They drifted into sleep without meaning to.
Frank’s head tucked against her shoulder, her hand still resting lightly in his hair. The low hum of the fridge was the only sound in the quiet apartment, and the weight of his body leaning into hers pulled her under with him. She woke only once in the night to shift, finding him already curled close, one hand curled loosely around her wrist as if he needed the contact even in his dreams.
By morning, they hadn’t spoken about it. They just traded sleepy glances over coffee and parted ways for the day, but something unspoken tethered them tighter than before.
Back at work, it showed.
Frank still hovered at her side during cases—not obtrusively, just steady, a constant presence she grew used to. Once, during a long lull in the trauma bay, she felt his fingers brush hers where their hands rested against the gurney rail. She glanced over, startled, and saw him chewing absently on his necklace, his gaze fixed on the monitors as if nothing unusual had happened. But his hand stayed there, warm against hers, their fingers loosely twined for minutes until duty pulled them apart.
Later, while they waited for imaging on a patient, he leaned close enough that his arm brushed hers and muttered, “Might need you again tonight.”
The words made her breath catch.
She tilted her head, keeping her voice quiet. “Need me how?”
His mouth curved, a half-smile tugging at his lips, but his eyes were serious. “Like last time. Just being there. Letting me…us- you know.” He gestured vaguely, as if embarrassed to name the chewing, the leaning, the closeness. The cuddling.
Mel’s heart swelled with something fierce and tender all at once. She didn’t hesitate. “Then you’ll have me tonight,” she said softly. “Whatever you need.”
His eyes flicked to hers at that, sharp and searching, and the corners of his mouth lifted like she’d given him a gift. He reached for her hand again, squeezing once before letting go.
And Mel realized in that moment that whatever they were—friends, colleagues, something far more complicated—she wanted to be needed by him just as much as he wanted to need her.
+
By the time the long shift ended, Mel could feel it in him.
Frank was wound tight but not with nerves this time—something needier, something almost aching. He walked her out, his hand brushing hers in the hallway, then again in the elevator. When they reached her apartment, he followed her in wordlessly, almost as if he was afraid to ask but more afraid to leave.
Inside, he dropped onto her couch with a sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. The chew necklace was already between his teeth before she’d set her bag down. She shrugged her clothes off innocently; shoes, scrub shirt. She walked towards him as she unbraided her hair.
“Rough shift,” she murmured, coming to sit beside him. It was a statement.
“Not the cases,” he said, words muffled around the silicone. He pulled it free with a frustrated sound, jaw tense. “It’s me. It’s always me. As a doctor or not,”
“Frank,” She reached for his hand before he could tuck it away, curling her fingers around his. “You’ve been great. You’re just honest about what you need.”
He looked at her then, really looked, his blue eyes watery and something broke in his expression. “What if what I need is you?”
Her heart stuttered. “Me?”
He leaned in, his forehead gently meeting hers, his voice raw. “Your voice. Your hands. The way you—God, Mel, the way you make me feel like I’m not drowning. At work, I keep finding excuses just to look at you, let alone touch you. I tell myself it’s nothing but I—” His breath hitched, and he stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to want less of you.”
Her pulse throbbed at his confession, but she stayed steady, squeezing his hand. “Then don’t.”
His breath left him in a shudder. He shifted closer, almost crawling into her space now, his knee pressed against hers, his hand clutching hers like he couldn’t bear to let go. “Can I—?” His voice cracked, low and pleading. “Can I just hold you?”
Mel nodded, and before the word was even out, he pulled her into his arms and onto his lap. It wasn’t graceful—he wrapped his arms around her like he was afraid she’d vanish, pulling her flush against him.
“God,” he whispered against her temple, starting to press pecks against her face. “You smell so good, baby. You feel so good. I just—” He cut himself off with a rough laugh, looking down to where Mel was toying with his necklace, before he shoved it aside. “I don’t want that right now. I just want you.”
Her hands slid up his back, soothing, grounding. “I’m here,” she murmured. “You have me.”
He melted into her at that, finally exhaling, finally letting go of the tension that held him upright all day. He buried his face against her neck, his voice muffled but clear. “Say it again.”
“You have me.” She cradled his head close against her chest, a hand running through his soft hair. “As long as you need.”
She pulled away hesitantly and held his face in the pain of her hand. His mouth brushed her palm, soft and desperate in a lost kiss of devotion, and before she realized what she was doing, she offered him her thumb again.
He took it gently this time, closing his lips around it with a groan that spoke both of relief and desire. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes dark against his cheeks as he leaned into her, sucking softly like it was the only way to keep himself grounded.
Mel’s chest tightened, heat curling low in her belly as she felt his tongue curl around her, but she stayed still, giving him what he asked for, what he needed. “Good boy,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
Frank shuddered against her, pulling her even closer, his body nearly trembling with how much he wanted. She could feel him grow hard under her.
It was driving her insane.
Frank’s lips tightly closed around it, starting to suck with an intensity that made her pulse race, heat curling low in her belly. She could feel the tension coiling through his body—the way his fingers clenched her shirt, the shiver that ran through him each time she whispered him praise. She’d never seen him like this: truly raw, desperate, utterly unguarded.
And it thrilled her.
He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to hers, breathing fast, eyes dark and urgent. He kissed her jawline, settling on her chin, a hair's kiss away.
“Mel,” he rasped, voice low, rough. “I can’t stop. I don’t wanna stop.”
Her hands tangled in the fabric of his scrubs instinctively, holding him close, giving him exactly the permission he seemed to need. “Then don’t,” she whispered, voice trembling just enough to let him feel the pull between them.
He kissed her then, messy, urgent, all heat and need. For her first kiss, it was everything she hoped it would be and more.
She gasped into it, letting her body respond, letting herself arch into him as his hands roamed, gripping, holding, claiming her in ways that made her dizzy. Every week of tension, every careful boundary they’d maintained, melted away in that desperate press of his body against hers.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured against her skin, teeth grazing her jaw, lips scorching her cheek. “At work, at home—I can’t breathe without thinking about you. Say you need me too.”
Her answer came without thought, without hesitation. Her fingers dug into the back of his scrubs, pulling him impossibly closer as he nibbled her neck. “I do, Frank. I do, I need you, baby,” she whispered, her voice ragged, heart hammering.
That seemed to undo him further. His kisses deepened, more insistent, pressing against her with a need that bordered on feral. She felt every shiver, every groan, every tremble of him as he moved, desperate to be closer, to feel her as much as possible.
Her hands were trembling with nerves, but she didn’t pull away. Frank pressed against her in every possible way, urgent, raw, and overwhelming.
She could feel his heartbeat hammering against hers, the warmth of his chest, the tremor in his fingers as they gripped her like he couldn’t let go. Every inhale of his breath was a reminder of how desperate he’d been all day, all week, just for this—just for her.
“Mel,” he groaned, voice ragged, almost breaking. “I… I want you. Please.”
Her pulse spiked. The sound of it, the way he said her name, desperate and pleading, sent heat curling through her low and sharp. She leaned into him, pressing her body flush with his. “I’m here darling,” she whispered, voice low and thick. “You’re safe. You have me. All of me.”
He groaned again, burying his face into her neck, teeth grazing lightly, hands roaming, gripping her hips, pulling her impossibly close. She could feel the urgency in his body, the way his muscles coiled and flexed with tension that had nowhere else to go. She’d never seen him like this—so raw, so hungry, so utterly dependent on her presence, and it made something deep inside her flare with heat.
Her hands slid into his hair, tangling at the nape of his neck as she tugged him closer. He shuddered against her, a low, desperate sound vibrating through him, and she pressed her lips to his jaw, teasing, claiming, letting him know he was hers in this moment, utterly and completely. She felt so powerful.
“I want you,” he groaned, voice strained, hands clutching her waist like he couldn’t stay upright without the anchor of her touch. “I need you, Mel. God, I need you.” He was a broken record. It was sort of pitiful.
Her heart hammered. “Then take me,” she whispered, voice raw, urgent, shivering with her own need. “Show me how much you need me.”
He reacted immediately, lips crashing against hers, all teeth and tongue, heat and urgency combining into something impossible to resist.
Her moans mingled with his groans, the room filling with the sound of two bodies pressed together, desperate and hungry as they hurriedly removed their clothes. She felt him trembling, groaning, biting back sounds that could shatter glass, and she wrapped her arms around him tighter, holding him close, guiding him, letting him know that it was more than okay to give in to this need.
“You’re mine,” she whispered as a gasp, voice low, heavy, pressing a kiss to his temple when he latched onto her nipple. His trained tongue was working magic as his other hand felt all around her body. “Fuck that feels so good.”
Frank’s response was immediate—a low, ragged exhale, body pressing closer, trembling, almost shaking with need. He leaned into her completely, clutching her as if letting go would make him vanish, and she felt the ache of him, the raw urgency of his craving, and she let herself respond fully, matching him in every aspect.
He pulled off with an audible pop and stared at her drunkenly with need. His shirt was off and Mel realized she was more bare than him, but somehow it felt like she still had control.
Mel’s hands slid over his chest, feeling the frantic rise and fall of his breathing beneath her palms. He was trembling with it, vibrating with urgency, but his eyes—dark, wide, pleading—searched hers like he was waiting for permission he couldn’t bring himself to properly ask.
“You’re shaking sweetheart,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his jaw.
“’Cause I need you,” Frank rasped, voice ragged. “I’ve been holding this back for months, and I can’t—God, I can’t anymore, Mel.”
Her heart thundered, her body aching to match his. She shifted onto his lap, straddling him, her hands curling around his face to keep him grounded as she kissed him hard, deep, letting her need bleed into his. He groaned into her mouth, clutching her hips like he might break apart if she pulled away.
“That’s it,” she murmured between kisses, rolling her hips slowly against him, grinding against him. His breath hitched, head falling back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut. “Good boy. Let me feel you.”
A shiver racked through him at the words, his hands tightening on her waist. “Say it again.”
“You’re my good boy,” Mel whispered against his ear, pressing down harder against him, feeling the hard line of him straining between them. “And I’m going to take care of you.”
He let out a strangled shocked sound, his mouth falling open as she guided them closer, closer, until the heat between them burned through every layer of restraint. He was quick to get his pants off, eager to feel skin to skin. He looked almost shy and Mel would feel the same, but she was burning with adrenaline.
She reached down, fumbling briefly while they shared a more relaxed kiss, and then positioned herself over him, her body slick and ready from how long she’d been craving this.
When she sank down onto him, slow and deliberate, trying not to focus on the sharp sting, Frank’s head snapped forward with a gasp so sharp it nearly tore her in two. His hands flew to her hips, clenching hard, holding her as though the intensity might split him apart.
“Mel,” he groaned, broken, guttural. “Fuck, you feel—” He cut himself off with a shudder, eyes squeezing shut.
She stroked his hair back from his forehead, rocking her hips just slightly, savoring the way his whole body trembled beneath her. The pain had nothing on him, she’d take anything.
“That’s it, baby boy. You’re doing so good for me.”
His eyes opened, glazed and desperate, his chest heaving as if he couldn’t get enough air. “Harder,” he panted as she started moving earnestly. “Please. I need—” He swallowed hard, voice shaking. “Choke me. Please Mel, please.”
Mel’s pulse stuttered, heat ripping through her at the way he asked—pleading but insistent, craving the control, the grounding only she could give him. She slid one hand up, wrapping it gently but firmly around his throat, her thumb brushing over the flutter of his pulse.
His eyes rolled half-shut, a guttural moan ripping from him as he bucked up into her, hitting a certain spot in her. “Fuck—Mel, yes—”
She tightened just enough to make his breath catch, her hips sinking down onto him deeper, harder. “That’s it,” she whispered, her own voice breaking with desire. “Take it like a good boy,”
The sound he made in response was pure need, pure surrender, his body straining up into hers as though he’d been waiting his whole life for this.
Mel was so close, she could fucking feel it singeing her from the inside out. His cock was splitting her apart, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if he’d want to bend her over, or lay her on her back.
Frank looked so good under her though. It was addictive.
“Open your mouth,” she said; hearing her voice hiss out the command surprised her, and even he looked shocked.
But he happily obeyed, his tongue lolling out slightly, his pretty eyes staring up at her.
Mel lightly spat into his mouth; just a little thing of saliva from kissing, but he groaned like he needed it for the rest of his life. He tugged her by her hair to kiss him and she almost screamed from the way he angled his hips to fuck into her, his hands going to her ass to keep her spread.
“I’m so close,” Frank groaned, teeth clenched.
“Beg me,” Mel said. He knew what she meant.
“Please let me come inside you, fuck, please Mel, you’re amazing, pl-,”
“Oh, you’re such a good boy,”
It was like fire spilled within her and she moaned as he kept moving, riding out his well-earned high.
Frank glanced down then back up at her. Maybe he wanted more praise?
“You’re bleeding,” he mumbled, his fingers running up her sides, soothing her.
“Oh, that’s um,-“ she hated how she sounded so awkward after such an intense time. Yeah, she was. There was spotting of blood on his pelvis; there were times when she wished she had more shame but they both were doctors. They knew why she was.
“Did you…?” He started, interrupting her. No, she didn’t. She felt good though. She shook her head truthfully.
Frank softly lifted her up, both of them hissing at the loss of contact. She was worried he’d leave her all but for a second as he scooped her up. She almost protested due to his back but went wordless as he carried her into her bathroom. He sat her down on the edge of the tub as he got a shower started.
“That feels nice,” Mel said quietly as she tested the water, staring up at him. It was like the tables had turned on them.
“Of course, you like it too hot,” he joked with a smile, dimples appearing.
The warm water cascaded over them in no time, rinsing away sweat, slickness, droplets of blood, everything but the closeness between them. Frank was quiet, almost reverent, his fingers gentle as he smoothed water through her hair, down her back, his touch unhurried now. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her temple, as if he couldn’t help himself. He was utterly devoted.
“You take such good care of me,” he murmured in her ear, voice low and rough, barely audible over the water. “Let me take care of you now,”
Her chest tightened, emotion swelling thick in her throat. She let him wash her slowly, tenderly, the urgency from earlier melting into something deeper, steadier. By the time the water shut off, she felt boneless, dazed with more than just desire. Maybe a bit of relaxed drowsiness too.
He wrapped her in a towel, scooped her close again, and carried her to her bedroom like she weighed nothing. Lying her down on the sheets, he lingered over her, eyes unblinking, hungry, but softer too—like he was seeing her for the first time again.
“Frank—” she started, but the words caught when he sank to his knees at the edge of the bed.
Her breath stalled.
Langdon looked up at her from the floor, his hair damp, lips parted, eyes locked on hers with an intensity that stole the air from the room. His hands smoothed up her thighs, spreading them gently, reverently, until she was open for him, vulnerable under his gaze, towel barely keeping her modesty.
“Please,” he whispered, voice shaking with needy emotion. “Let me taste you. I need—” His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “I need all of you.”
Heat surged through her, her pulse racing. The sight of him there—on his knees, devotion written across every line of his body—made her ache in a way she hadn’t known she could. She nodded, unable to stop the small, breathless sound that escaped her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Frank… yes, please.”
And the way his face lit with determination at that word made her realize just how far he was willing to go to worship her.
The towel slipped from her hips, leaving her bare to his gaze. His breath caught audibly, and his eyes flicked up to hers, pupils blown wide, as if asking again, silently, for permission.
Mel’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. “Frank,” she whispered, heat burning low in her belly. “Please. I need you.”
That broke him. With a ragged sound, he leaned forward, burying his face between her thighs like a man starved. His tongue parted her folds instantly, hot and wet and insistent, lapping at her as though he’d been waiting years for this.
“Fuck—” Mel gasped, her hips jerking at the sudden, overwhelming pleasure. She’s never had this before but she’d now die without it. One hand shot to his hair, tangling in the damp strands, grounding herself as his tongue circled her clit, slow at first, then faster when she moaned in encouragement.
He groaned into her, the vibration making her head fall back against the pillow. “You taste—God, Mel, you taste so good,” he rasped between licks, nipping her thighs, his voice wrecked. “So fucking sweet. You’re my perfect girl.”
Her thighs trembled around his shoulders, and she tugged gently on his hair, breath coming in sharp bursts. “Frank, oh God, that feels so good.”
He moaned at her praise, tongue pressing harder against her clit, flicking and swirling with desperate precision. His nose nudged against her as he buried himself deeper, licking through her slickness greedily, swallowing her moans like they were the only thing keeping him alive.
Then one hand slipped from her tummy lower, fingers tracing her entrance before sliding inside her, slow but sure. Mel’s back arched off the mattress, a strangled cry tearing from her throat. Even after the rough sex she could feel her cunt clamp around him.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight,” Frank groaned, curling his fingers expertly while kissing her clit. “So wet for me. Let me open you up, baby. Let me make you feel good.”
He added a second digit, stretching her carefully, fucking into her with a steady rhythm while his tongue worked relentlessly above. The combination made her writhe against the sheets, helpless under his touch.
“Yes—oh, Frank—” she gasped, her legs trembling as the heat coiled tighter and tighter inside her, ready to snap. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He pulled back just long enough to murmur against her heated flesh, his voice wrecked and worshipful. “I’ll never stop. Not for you. I’ll stay on my knees for as long as it takes, Mel. You’re—fuck—you’re my everything.”
Her grip on his hair tightened, hips rolling up into his face, chasing every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers. He moaned in return, his own body rocking against the mattress, desperate just from pleasuring her.
She felt herself spiraling, the coil inside her snapping tighter, closer to release. “Frank—I’m—”
“Come for me,” he begged, his voice breaking, tongue circling faster as his fingers pumped deeper. “Be a good girl and come on my fucking tongue. I need it, Mel,”
Her whole body shuddered a minute later, the words shoving her over the edge. Pleasure ripped through her, white-hot and all-consuming, and she cried out his name, thighs clamping around his head as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her.
Frank groaned hungrily against her clit, licking and fucking her through it, swallowing every drop of her release like he couldn’t get enough. His name left her lips again and again, a mantra, broken and breathless, as he wrung every ounce of her orgasm out of her trembling body.
When she finally collapsed back onto the bed, panting, soaked in sweat and afterglow, Frank eased his fingers out of her, making a show of licking them clean with a reverence that made her shiver all over again. He bit onto the tip of his finger, just like he would his necklace.
Then he looked up at her from between her thighs, mouth wet, lips swollen, eyes dark with devotion.
Her body trembled, every nerve lit up from the way Frank had wrecked her with just his mouth and fingers. She was still catching her breath when he rose from the floor, chest heaving, his face glistening with her release.
The way he looked at her—wild, wrecked, desperate—made her stomach flip. Before she could say his name, his hand slid into her damp hair, fisting it tight, tugging her head back just enough to expose her throat to him.
A startled gasp left her lips, followed instantly by a sharp pulse of heat between her thighs, his palm cupping her cunt.
“Frank—”
He bent low, his mouth brushing her ear, voice rough and broken. “You don’t get it, do you? How fucking gone I am for you.” His hand tightened in her hair, pulling a little harder, making her whimper. She loved it.
“You’re mine, Mel. Say it.”
Her breath hitched, the possessive edge in his tone unraveling something inside her. No hesitation. “I’m yours.”
He groaned, spinning her so her chest pressed into the mattress. She let out a soft cry, half surprise, half need, as his hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. He pressed himself against her from behind, hard and urgent, grinding into her soaked heat.
“Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “So wet, still dripping for me. You want me to take you like this? Bend you over and fill you up until you can’t think straight?”
“Yes,” she gasped, fingers clenching in the sheets. “Please,”
He growled low in his throat, lining himself up, sliding the thick head of his cock through her slick folds. She cried out when he pushed into her in one hard thrust, her body stretching around him. He groaned, forehead pressed to her shoulder, his grip on her hips punishing. She was sure she’d bruise.
“Jesus, Mel,” he panted, rocking into her deep, hard, relentless. “So fucking tight—God, it feels like—like you’ve never—” He cut himself off with a strangled moan, then yanked her head back by her hair so she was forced to arch her back for him. “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice harsh. “Did I take your virginity earlier? Am I the only one who’s ever been inside you?”
Her body clenched around him at the question, shame and heat mixing as she gasped, “Yes, Frank—only you. It’s only you.”
He groaned loud and raw, snapping his hips into her harder, his body shuddering with the force of it. “Fuck— that’s my girl. You’re mine. No one else gets you like this, no one. Say it, I wanna fucking hear it.”
“I’m yours,” she cried out, the words muffled in the sheets as he fucked her harder, deeper, his hand tugging her hair to keep her back arched, his other hand sliding around to press between her thighs, fingers finding her clit. “All yours, Frank!”
“Good girl,” he growled, his voice wrecked. “My good girl, taking me so fucking well.”
The roughness of him—his grip, the sting of her hair pulled tight, the relentless slam of his hips—drove her higher, every nerve burning. She was lost to him, lost to the way he claimed her, body and soul.
“Gonna come for me again?” he rasped, pounding into her. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you,”
Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, ripping a cry from her throat as her body clamped down around his length. Frank snarled, his thrusts faltering as he drove into her through her climax, before spilling himself deep inside her with a guttural groan, collapsing over her back, still clutching her hair like he couldn’t let go.
The room rang with their ragged breaths, the sound of their heartbeats pounding in sync. He pressed kisses down her shoulder, his voice rough against her skin.
“You’re mine, Mel,” he whispered, softer now but no less fierce. “Always mine.”
And she knew, as her body trembled under him, that she wanted it that way.