I do not own Power Rangers: Jungle Fury.

I have not written anything quite like this before.

Francis Faye Fugleman Finds Her Voice

And More


Author's Note: Yes, it is at this point, things are going to get more graphic and if it's not your thing, absolutely move on to something else you would prefer to read and know that they had a good time and Fran enjoyed herself and feels more empowered in her life.

If you do want to read, then by all means . . .


And he smiles and she's just on fire, needing so badly to be touched-

And Dom rises, taking her hand in his, pulling it to his lips for a light kiss-

Oh.

Lifting their hands up-

And turning her slowly around, almost a slow, graceful spin of a dance.

Putting her back to him, that warm, bare chest to her bare back.

Safe.

And-

Then he sits back down where she put him-

Slowly pulling her back and down toward him-

Somehow she, distantly realizes, arranging himself down out of the way so she doesn't get, well, poked in the bottom but also probably so he doesn't get hurt as well, she's no way well versed in male anatomy -

And he eases her onto his lap.

His chest is warm against her back and she is intensely aware they are both only their underwear and she can still feel him pressing against her bottom and it's really hard, is that going to hurt being so hard and-

Her hands have nowhere to go and nothing to do, just there in her lap, what do people with hands do in this situation-

And she can feel his breath on her neck, on her ear, the side of her face, so warm and a little rough already-

And then his left hand glides over hers, fingers interlacing, and lifting, moving up to rest at the bottom of her ribcage, grounding her, as if he knows she is ticklish, she is Frannie Fugleman and of course she's going to be ticklish, anxious-

And his right hand is stroking her face, turning it just enough to him to lay light kisses there, way back near her ear and why should simple breath be so unbelievably erotic, that's what erotic means, Dom's breath, Dom's chest, Dom's hands, Dom's everything -

And then his hand is moving down, down the side of her neck, across her shoulder and trailing down her arm-

I can't believe this is really happening-

And she still doesn't know what to do with her right hand, it seems embarrassingly placid laying on her leg, her thigh, shouldn't it be an active participant but she's got all she can handle, just managing all these emotions and sensations to manage this hand as well-

But Dom's got this covered for her.

Because he reaches down, takes this hand now-

Dominic, you gorgeous man, I love you-

And covers it with his own too.

And he traces light kisses, grazes, on the side of her face, her ear, down her neck-

Several minutes pass, an eternity, who knows such things-

And then the right hands move.

Slowly, slowly up her thigh, the few inches to her most private of areas.

And when they reach her own lap, they stop again.

Her hand, her fingers, the ones she knows, the ones she's used to.

And his too.

Is this really real-

And they graze, just barely, the demarcation of her inner thigh and the cotton cloth of her panties, so thin, hardly any boundary at all between their fingers and-

She gasps and her legs involuntarily clench closed, not that they were ever very open to begin with-

Oh no, no, no-

And the hands become still, very still, fingers interlaced and still and-

I didn't mean- he'll think-

And he's whispering into her ear, soft murmur surreshing into her ear, traveling to her fevered brain.

"It's okay, Fran. Whatever you want, remember?"

She remembers, she knows.

And she still wants this, just needs to sit for a moment, them to be as they are, even if it is just awkward and sad that she can't just be normal-

"It's perfectly normal, Fran, you're perfectly fine, whatever you want."

His lips form the words against the sensitive nerve endings just behind her right earlobe, oh gosh, and all she has to do is say the word and he'll stop.

He'll stop because Fran's in charge, it's what Fran wants.

And Fran wants Dom.

And her right leg doesn't move on its own, no, she makes the conscious decision to move it-

Lift it and lazily lay it over his right leg.

Opening her up to -

"Touch me, Dom. I want you to."

. . . their, his, touch.

And the right hands move again, hers on the bottom, his on top.

Gliding slowly across the cotton fabric, Fran's and Dom's hands, touching, caressing-

Stimulating.

Slowly at first. Lightly.

It's still overwhelming, way beyond her level of experience-

But their hands, their fingers are moving, exploring, slow and right, and everything is exploding with stimulation, her eyes are closed, her mouth hanging open as she is flooded with everything her nerves are dumping into her brain-

And it feels so good, it feels so good she just lets it go on and on and on-

And without thinking, she moves her right hand out from under his, reaching up and back to cup his face, that jawline, feel her fingers in his short hair-

Leaving his right hand to cup her through that oh so thin cotton-

And she gasps, exhales, forgets herself-

His hand, Dom's hand.

Holding her, warm and gentle and strong.

Not even moving.

Letting her get used to him, just him, not moving-

"Touch me, Dom. Please."

Not until it is.

Gently squeezing, almost kneading, so light, so subtle.

But it makes her world explode, everything in her and she arches into that warm, strong hand, crying out, feeling his fingers caress, rub, just a little, on all of her, on that button, that nub, that sometimes hides from her, unless she's thinking of him-

Pressing, rubbing, kneading, just enough to make her move that way again and then he moves that way again-

And now they've got a rhythm and it's not quite as raucous and wild as it feels in her mind-

But it's glorious, a glorious friction, a glorious sensation, oh it really is better than mozzarella and she could do this all night, let him do this all night-

And she does, for a little while longer, not quite so long as she might think but long enough for her orgasm again, two, three, four more times, or is it just one continuous one, or maybe not even at all, no one has really explained exactly what it feels like but whatever this is it is amazing -

Her caught and molded and kneaded in the palm of Dom's hand, those strong, nimble fingers and they're still just on top of her panties, what they could do underneath-

As his breath, warm and harsh and urgent, accompanying warm, moist kisses along her neck, her shoulder-

And their hands have moved up during this time, to cover her breasts, they're breasts, not nips-

And Dom's hand and her hand are warm and enveloping on her sensitive, exposed flesh, squeezing just the right amount, his thumb rubbing right over the point it's on and it feels so good-

And what Frannie doesn't know is that amid all this movement and stimulation to her, Dom's hard salami is just there, underneath her.

Being rubbed and pressed and stimulated as well.

And the man that body part is attached to is hanging on to his own release by sheer force of will.

Because it all feels so good, so very, very good to him as well, all that incredibly tight, wired tension in his meatballs is almost more than he can manage-

And then it all stops-

"Dom-"

-because she's gasping his name in the most needful way-

And rising, turning-

"Dominic-"

Him moving, arms opening to release her from his embrace-

Setting herself right back down upon him, right there with his thin cotton boxer briefs and her thin white cotton panties-

"Oh gosh, oh . . . Dom . . ."

Just like they were on the couch, except even closer, even more pressed together-

And her sitting on him, not even pretending not to be rubbing herself on him anymore, oh and the pleasure is so intense-

"Dominic, oh . . ."

And he's kissing her, all over her upper half, her breasts, her shoulders, her neck, her mouth, and his hands on her back, in her hair, on her thighs, she feels she may fall, there is no gravity, what is gravity, but it doesn't matter, he would catch her, he would take care of her-

And she's vaguely aware she feels different down there, not a lot, not alarmingly so-

But enough that . . .

"I think I'm ready, Dom. I think I'm ready for you."

It should sound awkward, she should think of something better to say but . . .

"Okay."

He doesn't seem to care, he's standing, lifting them both up, and he's so strong, all she has to do is hold on-

And he's turning, turning around, laying her down on her own bed, on her very own bed-

And he's laying down with her and her arms are around him and he's kissing her and her mind is racing, racing, completely overwhelmed but she wants this, she wants him and-

"Whatever you want, Fran."

And he kisses her more, pulls off her underwear and she lets him and -

And he's pulling off his underwear and she doesn't quite look, she can't quite, maybe she will the next time-

The next time-

And then he's back and his weight on her and he's back kissing her, pulling her leg up to the outside of his hip, first one and then she does the other side and-

And oh, she's read about this in a very vague sense, heard people talk about it but now it's happening to her and it doesn't feel real-

And she feels his fingers, those silky strong fingers and then she feels it his his his-

"Oh-sss-"

And it hurts, not really bad, not screaming bad, but she involuntarily flinches, her body suddenly tense and not in a good way-

Afraid of the pain increasing and then her being stuck because they're already - and she wouldn't want to-

And Dom's stopped -

"I'm sorry, Dom, I didn't mean to-"

And he's not gone, he's still there, close, weighty but that thing, his, well, his, has backed off a little and she doesn't feel it trying to, well-

"It's okay-"

And he must be needing that release that boys need and they can't stop now and even if they do, next time it will still hurt and she doesn't want to not to forever just because of a little pain-

"We can stop if it hurts."

And anyone she's ever listened to or pretended to not listen to talk always says it hurts the first time so she just has to-

Get through it.

And there's no better person than Dom, I'm sure of it.

So-

"I don't want to stop. I just wish it didn't have to hurt but-"

And he grins as he speaks.

"Maybe I can help."

And she shouldn't be surprised.

"You can make it . . . not hurt?"

"Maybe not hurt as much."

"O-okay."

And he grins again.

"Lay back. And relax. If you want to."

And she . . .

Oh my marinara -

. . . does.


Thanks for reading!