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You began pouring yourself a glass of wine, before offering some to Zayne. You didn’t drink often, but you felt you’d be needing it tonight. He’d sent you a text throughout the day, warning you he needed to speak to you about something over dinner. 

Your stomach has been tangling itself in knots ever since. When he confirmed he didn’t want any of the chardonnay, you put it away and slid into the seat across from him. Even as you took your first, generous sip Zayne hasn’t spoken a word. 

He is taking another bite of the maple-glazed salmon when you finally broke the silence. “Is everything okay?” 

His green eyes moved from the plate in front of him to you, looking a little caught off-guard. “It’s delicious, is this a new recipe?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as he brought up the dinner you’d made instead of the ominous text message from earlier. “Well, yes it is, but-” 

“You should make it more often.” His words came out a little muffled through the next bite of fish he’d gotten. 

“Thank you, but I wasn't talking about the food.” You clarify. Under the table you are worrying your napkin between your fingers. 

Zayne hums, his tongue darting out to lick off excess maple glaze lingering on his lips. The movement catches your attention and you find yourself gripping the napkin tightly. “Is something else the matter?” 

“I was talking about the text you sent earlier.” Your words seem to kickstart something in his brain as he sits up straighter. 

You mirror his movement, sitting up in your seat as you study the way the city’s lights are illuminating his features. Telepathically urging him to just get on with whatever he has to say. You prepared yourself for the worst, but a life altering confession never came. 

“There’s a charity gala I’ve been invited to as head of the cardio surgery department. I wanted to make sure you could come as my plus one.” 

You let out a breath of relief. “Is that all?”

He reaches for his glass of water, looking at you with a small quirk of his eyebrow. “Were you expecting something else?” 

You shake your head, if only to avoid his striking green eyes boring into you for another second. “I didn’t know what to expect to be honest.” 

As you look at him you can make out a smirk he’s hiding behind his glass. <em>Was he teasing you on purpose?</em> 

“It’s nothing to be nervous about.” His deep voice reaches your ears, having the opposite effect of what his words intend to do. You take another sip of chardonnay, the smooth liquid leaving a warmth in your throat. “However… there is a black tie dress code.” 

You ponder over your closet, thinking of the classiest dresses you own, before Zayne catches you by surprise once again. “You can pick out whatever dress you’d like. I’ll leave my card with you tomorrow.” 

“I’m sure I could find something in my closet.” In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you could. However, the idea of using his card to buy something for yourself was already making your palms sweat. 

“I insist, just make me aware of whatever you choose.” He’s so nonchalant with his request, resuming his meal without sparing you another glance. It seems the conversation is over since he’s decided on you buying a new dress. It’s only fair that he wants to see it. Make sure his money was used wisely. 

You down the rest of your wine before eating your own food. 

—

Days later, you find yourself in the guest bedroom, inspecting yourself in the full length mirror. The dress you picked out was as flattering as could be, along with the tallest heels you could walk in successfully. You’d chosen something backless, mainly because it was your favorite color and one of the cheaper options in the high-end dress store Zayne had recommended.

Just as you turn to grab your bag you hear three quiet knocks on the door. The guest bedroom was the first room Zayne had shown you on the tour of the penthouse. You’d taken it as his way of showing you the room he wanted you to stay in. Since then, he hadn’t come into the room uninvited. 

Your heels click across the hardwood floors as you make your way to the door. You open it to see Zayne on the other side, his eyes finding your face and then moving over your figure. “Ready to go?” He asks. 

You swallow thickly before nodding, your own gaze falls on the long neck-tie draped on his chest. The same shade of the dress you’re wearing. As if the wedding rings on your respective fingers weren’t enough to mark you as a pair, he’d gone the extra mile to match you. 

He reaches out his left hand, the gold of the ring glinting in the light of your room before you take it. He guides you all the way down to his sleek expensive car, opening your door and helping you in. 

You rationalize his actions, of course he wants to practice his appearances for the night. He couldn’t afford people talking about his marriage being fake. 

You weren’t sure what to expect from the gala, you were a little surprised to have Zayne taken from your side almost as soon as you arrived. One of his coworkers asked his advice for something urgent. You found yourself alone, standing against one of the walls of the fancy banquet hall. 

You were nursing a champagne you’d barely taken a sip of. Watching Zayne from across the room where he was engaged in a conversation with a group of important people. You didn’t notice the man sidle up to you, “All alone this evening?” 

He was tall, though not taller than Zayne. Dark brown hair and blue eyes, you couldn’t help but think he looks remarkably plain. Especially compared to your husband. You shake your head at his question, letting your left hand rise enough for him to see the large diamond. “I’m here with my husband.” 

He took the opportunity to grab your hand, shaking it gently before getting a look at the ring. “Simon, it’s lovely to meet you. Is your husband one of the doctors here tonight?” 

His touch left an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. You introduced yourself before dropping his hand as quickly as you could. “My husband is over there.” 

You nod your head over in Zayne’s direction, but Simon doesn’t even turn his head. “Have you two been married long?” 

“A month.” You answer his question curtly, taking a sip of champagne to punctuate. 

“Newlyweds then.” He’s clearly grasping at straws to keep this conversation going. His eyes keep lingering over your body more than your face. You wish you had any excuse to leave the area, but Zayne is still clearly engrossed in whatever his colleagues are discussing. 

He speaks again, trying to get your attention back on him. “Is he treating you well?” 

Simon clearly has no reservations at making his intentions clear. You wonder if he’d bothered at looking at Zayne, if he’d still be so bold. You open your mouth to respond before a large hand is wrapping around your exposed back. 

“Dr. Zayne, head of the cardio department.” Your head snaps up to Zayne as he moves the hand not on your back to shake Simon’s. You’re not even sure how he’d managed to get over to you so quickly.

Simon looks intimidated to say the least, his face goes pale as his head moves to look up at Zayne. He takes the handshake, though it’s a late response. “Nice to meet you, I was just-”

Zayne cuts him off before he gets the chance to come up with an excuse. “Keeping my wife company?” 

You blush at the title, still unused to him calling you that. His warmth at your side is welcome, especially as the air conditioning nips at your exposed back. You fight the urge to lean in, Simon and the indistinct chatter of the party becoming afterthoughts. 

“I was just introducing myself, Doctor. No need to worry.” Simon was definitely trying to do more than introduce yourself, although you’re sure all three of you knew that already. 

“Well, it seems like your job here is done then.” You’ve never heard Zayne’s voice so… cold. You’re rethinking your previous assumption that Zayne disliked you. If this was how he spoke to those he truly dislikes. 

Simon seems to have gotten a burst of confidence, however. “With a wife as beautiful as yours, I wouldn’t leave her side.” You tense at his words, disturbed by the compliment and bracing yourself for Zayne’s response. 

“Luckily, I’m the one who gets to take her home and not you. I think it would be in your best interest to step away.” If your face could get any redder, it certainly does. 

Simon’s eyes go wide at Zayne’s comment. “Understood, have a good evening.” His expression is tight as he finally steps back. 

You don’t turn to look at Zayne until Simon has walked away, once you do he’s already looking at you. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

His hand hasn’t moved off your back, his voice has gained a softer tone. One you now know is reserved for you. You want to leave as soon as you can, but you don’t want to hold him back. “Do you have anyone else you need to talk to?”

“No one is as important as you.” Your breath hitches at his words. This is something you’ve never heard from Zayne before. Such an intimate expression, meant for your ears only. 

At your nod of approval, he guides you out of the banquet hall. He doesn’t spare a farewell to the group he was speaking to earlier, seemingly as desperate to escape as you. Perhaps, you were an excuse to leave. Even as you think that, his actions towards Simon make you second guess yourself. He seemed jealous, possessive even. You couldn't come up with <em>any</em> reason for such a genuine reaction. 

Unless Zayne was an incredible actor, you were pretty sure there was more to this arranged marriage than you had thought. 

Your mind races with thoughts up until Zayne locks the door behind you two. You move to head to your bedroom before he stops you. “Wait.” You turn, looking down at where his long slender fingers are wrapping loosely around your wrist. 

“I must apologize.” 

You blink up at him, utterly dumbfounded. “Apologize?” 

“For leaving you alone at the gala. I haven’t been fulfilling my duties as your husband. If you’re unhappy, I want you to speak your mind.” You take a minute to digest his words, over the course of the night your whole perception of Zayne has changed. 

He lets go of your wrist at your lack of response. Flexing his hand at his side instead, like he wants to reach out again, but is stopping himself. You finally find your voice. “Did you mean what you said?” 

He looks into your eyes with that piercing stare of his. “Of course.” 

You open your mouth, but close it once more. You wanted to ask about his previous actions, finally get the clarifications you’ve been searching for. He beats you to it, taking your hands in his. His touch stays as gentle as it always is, holding your hands tenderly. “You’re my wife. No one has any priority over you. If I’ve made you feel as though that’s not the case, I’d like to apologize for that as well.”

“Zayne.” The use of his name has him gripping your hands tighter for a fraction of a second. “I know our situation isn’t typical. I’m not expecting you to care for me in that way.” 

Oftentimes, trying to read his expression is like trying to read in a language you don’t speak. Now, when you look up at him, he looks <em>heartbroken.</em> 

“I do.” He speaks quietly. “Care for you.” 

The confession feels like a punch to the chest. You had no idea this was where the night would lead. You’re rendered speechless as he waits patiently for you to say anything. In your silence, he drops one of your hands to reach for your chin. He lifts your face until you’re looking at him. 

You can feel your heart beating against your ribs as you respond. “You make me so nervous.” 

Zayne hesitates in his movements, moving to take a step back before you stop him. You grip his hand tighter. “No, not like that.” You clarify before he can move further. 

“Of course I care for you. You’re one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen.” His eyebrows shoot up at that, he’s as shocked as you are that you’ve said that. You move on before the flush on your face can get any worse. “And I thought you didn’t like me. I’ve just been trying my best to make you happy, but you’re so hard to read. Every time I look at you, I have to stop myself from trying to get closer to you.” 

“You don’t have to stop yourself.” He blurts out. It’s the least control you’ve ever seen from him. “I’m sorry for making you think I didn’t like you. I’m more than happy to prove that <em>isn’t</em?> the case.”

You can’t help but think how backwards this all is. Getting married <em>and then</em> confessing your attraction for one another. You still have to clarify nonetheless. “Prove it how?” 

“However you’d like.” He lifts the hand still in his grip to his lips as he leaves a soft kiss there. 

You gasp quietly, the implication takes you by surprise as you picture the ways he could show you. His free hand grabs your waist, pulling you closer to his large frame. You try to stutter out a response, but your words come out stilted. 

“It seems like I’ve been neglecting my duties as your husband. Let me make it up to you.” He moves your hand he’s holding to his chest. You can feel the quick rate of his heart through his dress shirt, betraying his own nerves. His eyes catch your lips, making his intentions clear. “May I?” 

You nod in permission as he moves closer, stopping just before his lips can reach yours. “I need to hear you say it.” You think distantly that he is teasing you once again, but you give in. Letting out a breathless “<em>Yes,</em>” that he cuts off with the press of his lips. 

It isn’t your first time kissing, since you’d kissed at the altar. However, this is much different than the diplomatic kiss from before. His lips are <em>insistent</em> against yours. Pressing firmly before moving away to change the angle in the fraction of a second. He moves both of his hands to grab your hips, squeezing over the lavish material of your dress. The movement has you gasping against his lips. He uses the opening to slot his tongue over your lips. 

He tastes like the sweet puffs they were serving at the banquet and you couldn’t imagine anything sweeter than this moment. He pulls away to look over you intently, his eyes catching on your lips that must be swollen from his ministrations. 

His voice sounds deeper than normal when he speaks. “If I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to control myself.” 

You move your hand from his dress shirt to his tie. You tug it gently, having no problems finding his eyes now. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He looks a little surprised at your words, not expecting you to be so direct maybe. He uses his grip on your hips to move you backwards. “Is that what you really want?” 

With a quiet, “Yes, Zayne.” He’s carrying you bridal style towards his bedroom. Kicking the door open and sitting you down on the edge of the bed. He tears off his glasses before speaking. 

“Then allow me to consummate this marriage.” He pulls his tie off before taking off his suit jacket. The sight of him undressing in front of you causing you to squeeze your thighs together. 

His eyes are drawn to the movement, causing the side of his lips to quirk in amusement. Once all of his buttons are undone, showing off the lean muscles of his torso and chest he moves forward. One hand falls on your thigh while the other moves under the strap to your dress. “I know how you’re feeling darling. This dress was driving me mad.” 

His knee presses into the mattress on your side as he moves closer. His face finding your neck and trailing kisses back to your face. You whimper quietly, his teasing leaving you shaking. You reach his hand out for his belt, but he stops you before you can. 

“So impatient, let me prepare you first.” He allows you to put your hand on his shoulder as he kneels between your legs. The sight of him looking up at you leaves you biting down on your lip. 

He tsks, his thumb is warm as he smooths it over your lip. “Wanna hear you. Won’t you take your dress off for me?” 

You nod, your hands coming to slide the straps of your dress off, exposing your breasts to the open air. He moves his hands to help slide the dress off of you all the way. Leaving you in just your soaked panties in front of him. You want to look away, but his serious expression is captivating as his eyes rake over you. 

He takes the final step to hook his fingers on the edge of your panties, his hands still avoiding touching you anywhere but the meat of your thighs. “Zayne…” His name comes out in a whine, your hands gripping the sheets on either side of you. 

He hums, his face moving closer to your thigh so he can leave a wet kiss there. “Love it when you say my name.” He drags his tongue closer to your core, before pulling his face away to look at you. 

“Please…” You trail off, your voice failing when he stands up. 

“Please what?” He lifts up one of your legs to help you lie on the bed. Climbing over you as he braces one of his arms beside your head. His other hand touches your breast, kneading slightly. 

“Touch me.” You tell him, though you think the way your hips lift for friction is enough to display what you want. 

“I am touching you.” His thumb tweeks your nipple as proof, a stilted moan spills from your lips. 

You’re sure your face is bright red at this point, though he must enjoy the sight because his eyes are glued to your face. “Please Zayne, touch my pussy.” 

He leans forward until his mouth is close to your ears, he murmurs a quiet, “Good girl.” To accompany his praise, two of his slender fingers part your folds, sliding easily through the slick. “You’re so wet for me, almost ready for my cock?” 

You mewl loudly as he precisely circles your clit. Your thighs clamp down on his hand, trapping it over your heat. His filthy words only make you wetter, gushing over his digits. You hadn’t thought he’d be so vulgar, but you certainly aren’t complaining. “Hah… I’m ready, Zayne.” 

He groans in response, his lips pressing over your neck and down to your collarbone. You move one of your legs up until it makes contact with his groin, feeling evidence of his own arousal. His dick is rock hard where it’s straining against the slacks he never took off. The second he feels your leg against it, his hand moves away from your pussy, making you whine. 

“So needy… you just need me to fill you up that bad? When I’m trying to take my time with you?” He moves his face away from the mark he was leaving on your collarbone to look at you. 

You find it hard to keep eye contact when his green eyes are looking at you so sternly, but you manage it. “Yes, please. I need you.” 

His Adam apple bobs as he swallows, seemingly thinking it over before coming to his conclusion. “So be it.” He leans away from you, his hands coming to undo his belt and push his dress pants off. He isn’t taking his time anymore, his movements are hurried until the offending clothing is thrown on the floor. 

You can’t help yourself from glancing down at his leaking cock, red and swollen from being neglected. He pumps it slowly from the base to the tip as he looks over your exposed body. You fight the urge to close your thighs. Focusing instead on the quiet huffs coming from his mouth, the previously stoic man you once knew finally losing his cool. 

You think about sitting up and putting him in your mouth, your own needs falling to the sidelines, but before you can he’s moving forward. He grabs either of your legs to wrap around himself so there’s enough room for him to slide between them. You let out a whimper as his member makes contact over your pussy, grazing your clit. 

He lets out a small grunt in response, taking intense focus as he lines himself up in front of you. “Are you ready to take me darling?” 

The words make you shiver, but you manage to let out a small affirmation. As soon as it’s out of your mouth, he’s slowly sheathing himself in you. You aren’t sure if he’s taking his time to tease you more, or if he’s being considerate. Regardless, the way his cock splits you open as you arch against him has you reaching up to grab his shoulders. 

“Zayne…” His name comes out high-pitched and breathy. His stoic expression cracks at the noise, his eyes shut as he focuses on the feeling of your walls squeezing over every vein of his member. 

You feel stretched open by the time he’s fully buried in your core. The hand not bracing himself up has come to hold onto your hip tightly, like he’s stopping himself from pounding into you right away. You reply by tightening your legs around him, the heel of your foot pressing into his back. 

His eyes open when he begins to slide out of you, making sure he can watch your expression once he thrusts into you. Your mouth falls open in surprise as he manages to hit your g-spot with the first thrust. He smirks slightly, like he’s proud of himself before he slides his hand up to cup your face. “Ready for more?” 

You want to shout that you’ve been ready this whole time. Instead, his fingers slide into your mouth, allowing you to suck on them while he starts to thrust into you rhythmically. Your hips move in time with his, allowing him to slide into you even deeper. The blinding friction you’ve been waiting for has you digging your nails into his shoulders.

His head falls forward, losing focus as you hear him groan beside your ear. “Take me so good, love the way you squeeze me.” You’re moaning around his fingers, even as some drool manages to leak from the sides of your lips. 

As his speed picks up, you can feel where your shared arousal has begun to pool at the base of his cock. He moves his fingers out of your mouth, making a path down to your clit before getting distracted by your pert nipples. Without his fingers stunting the noise, you moan loudly as he pinches the sensitive bud between his soaked fingers. 

He moves his face back to yours when his hand finally reaches its destination on your bundle of nerves. He’s more than pleased when your face contorts with pleasure at the added stimulation. “Are you close? Going to cum around my cock?” 

You try to nod, but he slows down his speed when you don’t respond. “Want to hear you.” 

“Yes! I’m almost there Zayne, don’t stop.” Your desperation for him to keep moving allows you to shout out, which he takes in stride. 

He loses his rhythm, chasing his own finish while his lips find yours in a messy kiss. His tongue licks over yours as small grunts escape the back of his throat. Your hands rake down his back, searching for something to ground yourself since you feel your orgasm approaching. 

You finish in tandem, feeling the warmth of his cum spilling inside you. Your kiss loses its momentum as you call out loudly. Zayne is quiet, but you can feel his whole body shake against you while he grinds the tail-end of his orgasm against you. 

He leans back to look over at your spent expression once both of your aftershocks have subsided. Zayne himself looks prostrate, his eyes lidded and his dark hair sticking to his forehead. You move one of your hands to run through his hair as he looks at you fondly. “Thank you.” He whispers. 

You aren’t sure if it’s for your action, or for the sex as a whole. You think it’s a little silly for him to thank his own wife for such things, but you’re touched nonetheless. You lean forward to peck his lips once more. 

Even after all the lewd acts you’ve just done, the kiss brings a redness to the tips of his ears that wasn’t there before. <em>Cute</em> is the word you’d use to describe him. 

Eventually, he has to pull out of you, though he seems pained to do so. He moves to the attached bathroom of the main bedroom to grab a towel. You almost melt into the sheets when you feel the warm towel he wipes you with. He’s very methodical, making sure you’re thoroughly clean before discarding the towel and offering you one of his shirts to wear. 

“Is this okay?” He’s sure to ask, in case you would prefer your own clothes instead. 

Of course you’re more than okay with wearing his shirt and you slip it over your head gratefully. You almost panic when he leaves the room, but you’re pleased when he comes back with a glass of cold water for you. On his way back in, he admires the sight of you in his bed until he dims the lights. He puts it on the nightstand before slipping under the sheets beside you. 

He reaches out to pull you against him before pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder. “Are you going to start sleeping in here from now on?” He asks into the darkness.