42. Epilogue #2
As Evan showered, Frankie busied herself with tidying up the dishes and straightening up the living room.
There was something about the original brick walls on display, and the classic, uneven, wooden flooring of the apartment that always gave Frankie a sense of peace.
Or maybe it was the constant ticking of Uncle Eamon’s antique grandfather clock that, after all these years, still held the power to lull her to sleep.
Since Evan moved in, almost a year to the date, Frankie had a feeling they had a lot to do with the serene space.
Several of Evan’s art supplies were in a scattered mess on the workspace Frankie had provided for them months ago.
Cups with water and brushes sat on the windowsill of the bay window overlooking Davie St. A contented smile graced Frankie’s lips as she carried the used supplies to the kitchen sink.
She could appreciate a good distraction when she was met with one.
Cleaning helped ease the anxiety over her plans for intimacy that night.
If her therapist believed she was ready, then getting vulnerable with Evan was something she was prepared to do.
Her thirty-ninth birthday had come and gone already, and she still didn’t know what it was like to be touched by a lover.
Not the skin-on-skin vulnerability that McCoy had occasionally pushed for when they were together.
Frankie had never loved or trusted the former playgirl enough to try, she knew that now. But with Evan …
The bathroom door clicked open, steam from Evan’s shower billowing out around them as they stepped into the hallway in just a towel. Frankie forgot what she was doing, her gaze heating as she tracked their movements to the bedroom. Desire tightened low in her belly. Desire and concern .
“I have a surprise for you,” she said the moment Evan returned, now dressed in an insulated long-sleeve shirt and pajama pants.
Evan came into the living room, their nose wrinkling with a dour expression. “I thought we were waiting for Christmas morning to open gifts. I only got you one.”
“It’s a surprise, not a gift,” Frankie corrected, but then heaved a sigh, winking through her uneasiness. “Though I suppose if you’re a good boi you can unwrap it like one.”
“Oh, I can be a very good boi,” her little thief bragged, excitement making them rock back and forth on their heels.
“Okay, great. Would you like a drink first? A beer, glass of bourbon?” she asked Evan, moving past them to make a beeline for the kitchen. Her fingers trembled as she retrieved glasses from the cupboard.
They trailed slowly behind her, the silence loud in the small space. For several long seconds, the only noise came from the two tumblers being set on the counter and the sound of ice clinking into the bottom of each one.
“You’re nervous,” Evan said finally, wonder in their voice. “Why didn’t I see it before?”
“I am not nervous.” Frankie didn’t get nervous.
No way, not about sex and never about Evan.
Now fear, that was a whole other beast that bested her from time to time.
Tonight, she feared she’d accidentally hurt Evan, either physically or emotionally.
She feared that even if Evan was able to bury any part of themself safely between her thighs, that she’d realize she was too fucked up from the past to orgasm.
What if she could only come on her terms and not from a partner pleasuring her?
Evan approached carefully, watching her like she was a skittish rabbit.
They reached for the tumbler in her hand, setting it back down on the counter.
Tears pricked Frankie’s eyes as Evan murmured, “If it’s okay with you, Daddy, I’d rather receive this surprise with a clear head.
Alcohol and deep conversations don’t mix, remember?
I’ll assume that whatever you plan to give me, the same rules apply. Can I make you tea instead?”
“No. Thank you, baby, but no.” No more waiting .
Evan had waited long enough. Frankie rested her forehead against theirs, closing her eyes and inhaling their fresh shower scent.
“I want … I want you, little thief. In every way. All the ways. Tonight, I want to feel you against me, your lips on my skin, your fingers and tongue inside me. Do … do you still want that?”
Unadulterated shock came over Evan for maybe five excruciating seconds, and then their face split into the widest grin Frankie had ever seen on her lover. “Fuck yes, so long as it means you’re still my Domme. But are you sure?”
Frankie gave them a tentative nod. “I’ll allow you to top me, but I’m still in charge.”
Evan nodded enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Good then.” Frankie took their hand, leading them to the bedroom. This wasn’t something she wanted to happen in their playroom. She paused just before reaching the bed. “You can start by undressing me.”
“Okay, umm … I hate to jinx this, but like, why now? And will this be a scene like we always do?” Evan peered up at her, looking unsure as well now. “I just don’t really know—”
“Not a scene, no.” Slowly, Frankie shook her head. “I want to be with you like two vanilla people coming together for the first time. I never have.”
If anything, Evan seemed even more unsure at her comment. They lifted her hand in theirs, kissing the back softly before placing her palm against their cheek. “Okay, but … we aren’t two vanilla people. You aren’t.”
She was damaged, that was what they weren’t saying. Frankie took a deep, ragged breath, pulling out of Evan’s grasp to slump down onto the end of her bed. She wiped at her eyes, unable to look at them. “You’re right. It was a stupid idea. I just want to be normal for you, little thief.”
“You are normal. And you’re a rape survivor, Frankie. Give yourself some fucking grace.”
“But …” Frankie bit her lip, trying hard not to linger on that godawful word. She hated it being out in the open like that. It was much easier to refer to what happened as an assault, or the “incident”. “B-being with me comes with so many rules, all the time. You must be sick of it.”
“I happen to love your rules,” Evan said quietly.
Their small hands landed on hers, prying them away from her eyes.
“And I love you just the way you are, whether you’re paddling my ass and restraining me to the bondage frame as Daddy, or if you’re sharing a meal with me and entertaining my mom as Frankie. ”
“What are … what’re you doing?” Frankie’s lower lip trembled as Evan lowered themself to the floor.
They didn’t reply, just gave her a small smile and lifted one of her feet onto their thigh.
She watched with rapt attention as each of her socks was removed, and then Evan pressed loving kisses along the arch of both soles.
Their touch always felt comforting on her feet, and tonight was no exception.
Contented tingles danced along the sensitive skin.
“I’m going to undress you, just like you wanted,” Evan explained, getting off the floor to give Frankie a kiss. Their eyes met. “But you’re still in charge, Daddy. I’m still yours to use as you wish, and tonight, you want me to pleasure you.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Frankie swallowed. “And … and the color system, safe words in general, are practiced between both Domme and sub, so it’s completely normal if I use one from time to time.”
“Exactly.” Evan twirled a lock of her hair around their finger. The other hand, the one with the previously broken arm, began clumsily working on her blazer buttons. “One of the first rules you taught me was the importance of safe words. And consent. Do you still consent to this?”
“Yes. Undress me, little thief.”
“It’d be my honor.” Evan held her gaze as they removed her blazer.
Frankie’s mouth felt dry. A lump lodged halfway up her throat, but still, she didn’t look away.
There was something hypnotic with the way Evan watched her watching them, as if they were counting her shaky exhales with each blouse button.
Frankie’s stomach tightened as the sleeves were slowly pulled down her arms. One got caught on the bracelet around her wrist, and a tense chuckle escaped her.
“You’re gorgeous,” Evan said, their gaze on the quick rise and fall of her heavy breasts. “What do you want me to take off next?”
“My pants, my good boi.” Frankie’s teeth sank into her bottom lip as Evan dropped to their knees once more.
Ugh, that might have been her favorite position to see them in.
She was acutely aware of the small tufts of air passing through her lips the closer Evan got, but she forced herself to lean back on her elbows and remain still as they undid her belt buckle, waist clasp, and lowered the zipper.
There was absolutely nothing about what Evan was doing that was in any way familiar to her assault.
They were painstakingly gentle, for one.
She was clearheaded and not drugged, for two.
And Evan loved her. She wanted this. Hell, she was the one who initiated it!
She was safe in the haven she called home and with her favorite person.
“I can hear you breathing from here, Daddy. What color are you in right now?”
Frankie blinked, Evan’s blonde hair coming into focus.
Behind their glasses, soft mismatched eyes watched her, waiting, and Frankie swallowed hard.
“S-still green, baby.” She could do this.
She didn’t survive all these years to now fold under the pressure.
Gritting her teeth, she lifted her hips for Evan.
“I love you,” they murmured, shimmying Frankie’s slacks past her wide hips and down her legs. Upon her nod, they removed her underwear next, never rushing the process. When all that remained was her bra, Evan sat on their knees before her, hands folded in their lap, and waited.
Frankie cleared her throat. “You aren’t rushing to touch me. Why?”