Patterns flashed over my vision, colors, and slight hallucinations of things that weren't there occupied my mind.
It was all pleasant and absolutely amazing, though, I lie on the hotel bed, squeezing Frank's hand. I would lie my head on his chest, pointing around the room and mumbling about random things, a different assortment of songs playing in the background.
Frank wasn't exactly talkative all the time, and he seemed to leave a lot of things out when explaining, almost like he hadn't realized some things were important.
The only time he wouldn't stop muttering things is when he was high, or fucking me. We talked nearly all day, holding our hands in the air and explaining things by throwing them everywhere.
Every now and again he'd randomly say, "I need to do something" but I paid little to no attention, considering how he kept repeating it in such a matter of fact way.
Kissing him on his cheek turned into kissing him on his lips, which turned into him raising your hips off the bed with his face between my legs, not slowing down his tongue or taking mercy on me, he held my hips down, loudly groaning with me onto my core, rolling his eyes into his head. He was sloppy and loud, twisting and turning his head with his tongue movements, making me whine his name as he groans loudly, almost humming in his throat, holding his open mouth onto me until my legs tense and almost lock up from all the combined sensations. He ate me out until I legitimately passed out, rolled onto my stomach, fading away just as I hear him answer the door with a slow, groggy "hello?" Then a deep stern (and rather angry) voice going on about how it's four in the afternoon and that he doesn't want to hear people fucking in the next room over. Frank's response was giggling, and then slamming the door.
(This was short I know but the next chapter is taking a big turn so I need it separated)