Fusuki

***

"Joel?"

That day, Joel, who went silent after realizing an outrageous truth, was called by Lucius, who was with him in the same room.

"......"

This was Joel's junior knight, who joined their order six months ago.

Joel, the youngest child of a family with an older brother and an older sister, had joined the knights' order earlier than was customary. For as long as he could remember, he was surrounded by people usually older than him, and this junior is the only 'junior who was close to him in age'.

"Lucius. You."

"?"

Sitting on the bed, Lucius' head tilted in confusion, that short coral hair swaying.

Lucius' round eyes were fringed by long eyelashes, those very eyes tinted emerald, akin to wet glass beads. Those were similar to the color of the eyes of the neighborhood cat Joel used to nap with.

"......"

Putting down everything he wanted to say at first, in the meantime, Joel continued to talk.

"It's fine if you're taking over cleaning the baths every day, but after this, you're not allowed to go there this late. Got it?"

"Huh?! Oh, I'm sorry! Since I was about to take a bath, too, and cleaning would take some time... am I too noisy every time I go back here?"

"Yeah. Right. That disturbs me while I'm sleeping, so go there when I'm awake."

"Yes! I'll pay attention from now on!"

Lucius nodded vigorously while Joel nodded back in assent.

"You can go there right now as all our seniors should have finished bathing already. Also, any individual sword practice shouldn't be done at night, but at mornings."

"Understood! Joel, let's do our best getting up early tomorrow, too!"

"Huh. Don't want that."

"Hehe."

As Joel clearly expressed his refusal, Lucius laughed amusedly for some reason. Just like that, while they were talking, Lucius briskly moved, getting a towel and a change of clothes.

"Well, then, I'll go take a bath and clean up!"

Leaving the room, Lucius' footsteps and presence slowly faded away.

Sitting on the chair next to their bunk beds with a thud, Joel pondered over understanding his current situation.

(―――That person is a girl, huh.)

He planned to erase from memory all the events leading to this conclusion.

Instead of sitting upright on the chair, Joel's body slid sideways, his head resting against the wall, his eyes now closed.

(Even though cleaning the baths was supposedly a rostered task. I now understand why Lucius kept saying incomprehensible things like, "It's part of my training!" and volunteering to do that alone every day...)

She would go to their training grounds and practice very early in the morning, and would prepare for missions faster than anyone else. However, that would be the best possible way to cover up her changing clothes in the dressing room.

"Ah―――..."

For the first time in his life, Joel let out what would call a "sigh". Up to that point in his life, such worries were previously irrelevant to him.

(...I don't really care whether she's a man or a woman...)

Even though he thought like that, the moment he realized Lucius was a girl, he broke into a cold sweat underneath his clothes.

His heart thundered greatly, beating louder than it usually did after battles.

(Damn you, Captain. You knew all along yet you placed her in the same room as me, you bastard.)

Before Lucius joined their knights' order, Joel stayed in that room alone.

Then enter the newcomer, the delicate-looking and small Lucius.

Six months have passed since then, and as his new junior never showed signs of building muscle nor growing taller, he felt he finally solved that mystery.

(Lucius said she was originally a noble, but she got exiled by her family due to various reasons. If that was the case, because she couldn't travel easily due to her being a young woman, she disguised herself as a young man? ...Even so, why become a knight? I don't get it.)

She's really a big enigma, he thought.

Joel's only junior is someone whose thoughts and behavior are completely unreadable.

("Lucius" is probably not her real name.)

He was sure she was known with a different name as a girl.

(It's odd things like this make my heart flutter. It doesn't matter whatever her name is.)

Unsure of what he was thinking, Joel continued sulking alone.

(She should call herself the name she wants to be called with. It's likely her alias is similar to her real name, too...)

While he was thinking of whimsical things like that, it seemed like some time has passed.

There was a knock on the door, and Joel's eyes widened.

"It's me, Lucius!"

"...What?"

He stood up to open the door and found Lucius standing there, out of breath, her hair so wet that it looked like water was still dripping from there.

"...Too fast. What's the matter? You usually take longer to...?"

"If I bath too late, you'll have less time to sleep, Joel..."

"......"

That "sleep disturbance" he told Lucius earlier wasn't actually a big deal at all.

The building where Joel and the other lower-ranked knights lived in was far from where the baths were located. Just when lights are put out, the area on the way gets pitch black with no people around.

(I know she is a girl, so I lied to her as I didn't want her walking in the dark after taking a bath. That's all.)

Lucius turned to Joel with a very serious look on her face, then said,

"I've finished cleaning the baths completely! From now on, I won't be too noisy, so please, sleep well, Joel!"

(She went in a rush for my sake...)

Joel thought for a moment, then prompted Lucius to enter the room.

"...I'll dry your hair occasionally, so come here, 'Lu'."

"Joel? 'Lu', you say... perhaps..."

The junior he had been calling "Lucius" up to now widened her eyes in shock.

"Your name. 'Lucius' is too long, and it's tricky to pronounce."

It was another lie.

However, Joel didn't let it show on on his face and continued.

"From now on, I'll call you Lu. That's your nickname."

"A nickname..."

"All right? I won't call you anything other than that."

As he can't call her by her real name, it's better to use the nickname Joel came up with.

(Because this girl is)

Joel then grabbed a towel and placed it on her wet, coral-haired head.

"...Because you're my one and only junior."

"...!"

At that moment, Lu's eyes sparkled with joy, just like the color of a treasure left under the sun.

"Yes! I'm very glad, Joel!"

"...Mm. Good kid."

In the days that followed, Joel's life got wrapped around Lou's finger.

After all, Lu was a person who would try anything. Not only did she put everything into her training, she also worked hard to help people in need even outside of her knight duties, and she even joined in drinking parties of the other units.

Every time she experienced something new, she smiled brightly and happily.

"Hey, Leo. Do you know where Lu is?"

"...If you're talking about Lucius, he's been summoned by some beautiful women earlier."

"Hmm."

It was probably because she was actually a girl, but she was more attentive and friendly to other women than anyone else, and her knightly conduct made her very popular. Nevertheless, this interaction with others never led to disputes, and their senior knights could only look at the situation with wonder.

"Joel, good morning, rise and shine!"

"...Today, I'll be training in my dreams. It's praiseworthy training, so it's all right..."

"I won't be able to participate if that's the case! As my senior, please guide me in training, and I'll dry your hair for you tonight!"

Joel was watching nearby this whole time.

"――The Crown Prince of Galkhein killed his father and usurped the throne."

"......"

When he told Lu about this fact, her face turned really sad.

Even though her hands clutched the hem of her clothes tightly, and those hands were covered with blisters from continuing to hold the sword, those hands still looked frail and dainty.

(...I hope this girl won't come to the battlefield.)

He thought to himself as he patted Lu's head, her eyes downcast.

(As I can't fully protect you...... No matter how everyone told me I'm worthless at everything except swordsmanship, I'm just a knight.)

Such selfish wishes kept appearing in his head.

Her short, coral hair was so silky smooth, it was hard to think of her using the same soap as Joel and the other knights.

(I need to protect this country, His Majesty, and the princes. A mere knight like me can't look back.)

Even though she knew of the future to come, she couldn't say anything.

As Joel was her fellow knight and her 'senior'.

(――Such is the life Lu and I chose.)

He had seen more than anyone else how much effort she put in to be a knight.

"...Become even stronger, Lu."

"Joel..."

"Hey."

Joel crouched down in front of Lu, rested his chin on his lap, and smiled.

"...I'll help you train every day, then. I'm your senior, after all."

"...!"

As he was her senior, he couldn't tell her he didn't want her to die.

But as he was precisely her senior, Joel could give Lu hope in the way he only could.

"...Thank you, Joel!"

(...Truly, I fell in love with such a troublesome girl...)

Even through the aches, you feel the sacred weight of the place pressing down, and for a blessed few seconds, your world is reduced to the hush of this temple's inner sanctum and the sounds of your breathing.

The temple is colder tonight, the silence pressing close to your lungs. You’ve walked these halls before, sometimes with nothing but bruises, sometimes with shallow cuts and scrapes. And yet it has always welcomed you, if not with his company then with his silent, omniscient presence.

This time, you sense him before you fully see him: a shape unfolding from a shadow by the altar, a silhouette that seems to reflect the firelight rather than absorb it. He's outlined against white marble. Someone who looks like a man, but has the power of a god. One that has been summoned by many but understood by none.

He watches you with patient composure, eyes like the depths of a lush forest in the night. Your injuries are more brazen on your skin than usual, and for a beat, he studies them with an intense, almost wrathful expression.

He's clothed in silks the color of polished garnet and cream ivory. Gold drapes his musculature and contours as if he were an offering himself rather than the receiver of them. Delicate chains pour down his arms, heavy strands resting across the sides of his bared chest, dipping under the cut of his pectorals. His arms, encased in skeletal-shaped gold, gleam with a divine elegance, the design covering his forearms and hands as though metallic bone has grown over flesh.

“Back so soon,” he observes before his eyes deliberately scan your person. "But this-" he continues, his voice echoing in an empty room, accusatory but also strangely… tender. "-this is worse than the other times."

You continuously come to this temple to be unmade and remade. As aggressor and injured, as blasphemer and supplicant, as somebody who knows the ledger of debts owed to gods and also knows how to tally the offerings. You usually offer him the necessary things: the melodious hymn from the back of your throat, out-of-season herbs and blooms, incense and animal bones, valuables that you've pilfered from your quarry. In exchange, he's offered you and your injuries time and sanctuary from a world out to get you.

“I had nowhere else.” You force yourself nearer, seeking the familiarity of these walls, the safety of his healing, divine presence, even as your bruises ache and your pulse flutters like a candle flame.

He steps closer as well, and where he moves, shapes dance across marble walls until you watch his shadow become one with your own. He places his hand over an abrasion on your chin, and the touch is paradoxically calming and electrifying. His power shimmers over your exposed skin, and the ache of the scrape is wiped away.

Something like curiosity flickers across his face. “There are gods who mend. Why do you not seek them? Why choose a god on the path of destruction?”

"Because you've never turned anyone away." You answer with the simple truth. "Because you've never turned me away.

"You romanticize the power I wield." He shakes his head, insistent fingers moving to soothe another cut on your arm. "Nothing any god offers is without a price."

"And yet." You close your eyes only long enough to savour the warmth of his hand. "You’re the only one I’d be willing to pay that price to."

He studies you for a long moment, the candlelight illuminating the swipe of red darkening his cheeks.

“You know the cost.” His hand hovers near the deepest wound on your clavicle, the one painting your hand the colour of his sash. “Destruction cannot be undone without an offering."

“I know, I've thought of that. I have nothing of worth to give.” Your voice is quiet but steady. “But I can offer you myself.”

His features harden, and his words resound with divine command even as the words themselves are downright petulant when he says, “No. I will not allow any more of your blood to be spilled.”

“Yes. You don't need my blood. My body is just as valuable. I am worthy in my own right,” you counter, your voice rising with a resolve that surprises even you. “I've decided that I will bind myself to you. I will learn your rites, keep your altar. I will nurture worshippers of you, and I will be the protector of this temple. I will become the priestess of the God of Annihilation.”

His gaze intensifies again, green flickering in the torchlight as something possessive flashes across his gaze. “You speak with the certainty of one who understands the shape of devotion. Show me your determination to bind yourself to me,” he challenges.

His eyes follow you as you move with confidence, with certainty and purpose for the first time since you were cast away, and you feel the weight of his expectation. His regard. His... reverence.

The torchlight refracts off the rippling surface of the water in the center of the temple, where a circular blossom-speckled pool shimmers in muted torchlight. At the base of it sits a wheel of fate, its spokes etched with symbols that seem to shift when you glance at them, a reminder that every destiny is fluid in this place.

You wade through the lukewarm pool, reach the stone wheel, and place your hands upon it, feeling a molten heat surge through you. The exact moment you gasp at the sensation, the water around you ripples, and his presence envelops you. A mirror image of your shadows on the wall. It's so quick that it makes your chest flutter. And you wonder if he is as eager as you to bind you to him. If this is his quiet way of making sure you don’t change your mind.

A combination of hot skin and cold metal descends your shoulder blades and back to the base of your spine. The warm water laps gently against your thighs, heating the sensitive space between them.

"Do you understand the covenant you are about to make?" His hands hover around yours, tracing the rim of the wheel, lighting the runes there. “That your body, your soul, will be offered to this altar. And to me?”

"I do." You exhale slowly, letting the heat of the water and the pull of him ground you in this act of transcendence. “Carve my fate into yours." A demand and an offering all at once.

Turning toward him, you try to add the words that would seal it, a litany, a rite of passage for anyone giving themselves to a god’s service. But before they can leave your lips, his mouth is on yours, claiming it with a hunger that is almost devout in its gentleness. A strong arm presses you closer and, careful to avoid the injury on your jaw, he tilts your head, deepening the kiss so that every gasp, every heartbeat, becomes part of this consecration.

Your hands grasp at the cloth and chains over his heart, and his hands push through the soaked sashes pooling at your hips. The warmth hits you at the same time his palm squeezes your inner thigh, causing you to shiver.

Heat and want are already pooling in your stomach, and even if you had any protests, they would've shattered around the moan you release when two of his fingers slowly slide through your slick with ease and hook perfectly up into your spot. Knees buckling at the combination of his thick fingers and the ridged skeletal jewelry penetrating you, you break your kiss to steady yourself against the wheel and pant uneven breaths over your hands, which press into the glowing runes in the stone.

He doesn't stop, though, continuing to leave his mark on you while drawing his gilded fingers in and out. Branding his lips and teeth and mouth into the space beneath your ear, the skin stretched over your thudding pulse, across the small scrape on your shoulder, down your shoulder blade, sucking your skin into his mouth with deliberate, claiming pressure. Every score of his teeth, every hot tremble of his breath leaves you shaking as your inner walls tighten around him.

Unexpectedly, he stops, eliciting a pleading whine from your throat. Removing his fingers to turn you around, he cradles you in his arms in the water, his height arching your back over the shimmering light of the runes behind you. One of his hands supports your neck and head, while the other presses into your collarbone, tracing over the healed, un-bloodied skin, where your deepest injury had marred you only a few minutes ago.

“These waters are not intended to cleanse you.” He rasps, stroking his fingers against your skin and gazing deep into your eyes. “These waters will stain you. They will mark you as mine.”

You nod, words falling apart with each inhale and exhale.

"Not in the name of your worship." His hand disappears below the water and starts to move, and you only realize what's happening when you feel a silky hardness ten times hotter than the water around you align with your center. "But in the name of our fate."

He thrusts forward in one fluid motion, every contour and ridge filling you entirely. The stretch is so overwhelming, it knocks the breath right out of your lungs as you close your eyes and let yourself ascend. Let yourself become one with a god.

"Not in the name of the holy," he groans as he drives himself in once and slowly drags himself back out, making choppy waves ripple in the pool over and over and over again until you hear a keening whimper slither its way out of your throat, the sound only muffling when his lips find their way back to yours. "But in the name of our desires."

"Not in the name of the gods," he whispers into your throat, biting the skin above your jewelry and then sucking it to soothe it. "But in the name of me."

He completes the last word on another hard, deliberate thrust, tearing your body and your shout open in the most devastatingly exquisite way that has you bearing even more of your throat to his searing mouth.

Every drag of him inside you is a stretch that has your body burning and pleading for more, even as it starts to shiver from the sheer force of the sensation. Pleasure curls low in your belly, so tight and sharp it feels like it could consume you whole.

This is the culmination of every one of your meetings in the shadows of this temple. The nights you stumbled here, bruised and desperate. The way he'd always whisper your name, like all the prayers he'd heard for his own. The nights when you swore you saw hunger burning in his eyes before he turned away. All of those fragments and stolen moments now converge here, carved into you with each slow roll of his hips, with each kiss that leaves your lips raw and sanctified.

But as his slow, worshipful pace continues to drag on, your patience, in turn, continues to break. Every part of your body, every crevice, every vein, every pore has become a chalice overflowing with electrifying pressure until your hands are forced to ease it. With a frustrated moan, you rip your nails from the skin of his back, forcefully grab his hips, and start trying to push them into you at the pace you need.

You’re thwarted and punished for your impudence almost instantly, one of his hands snapping around your wrists and pinning them hard to the stone as his weight bears down on you, the contours of his biceps swelling with restrained force. The glowing runes flare and cast their light into his eyes, turning his gaze molten gold as it fixes on you, unyielding.

He leans in, voice a sharp blade against your lips. “Impatient,” he admonishes, and you realize his punishment is far from over when the movement of his cock inside you stops.

He presses himself closer until the shape of the jewels on his chest presses cool indents into the fiery heat of your exposed skin. “I will take care of you from now on.”

Air leaves you in ragged bursts; sobs tear out of you between gasps, raw and hungry as you nod obediently.

"Say it," he whispers, strands of his hair falling like sheets of silk around you, closing you in with him like a confessional.

"You will take care of me," you pant, more plea than agreement.

“That’s such an innocent way to say it,” he says, voice softening with a new, almost playful edge. “But you’re far from innocent, aren’t you?” The fingers of one hand tighten around your wrists, a reminder of consequences and claim, as his other thumb drags across the pulse under your jaw. “Tell me you want me to own you.”

You do everything in your power not to move your hips yourself, not to give in to the friction your body craves. Every nerve is tingling, every breath ragged and desperate, and oxygen stumbles in your throat. “I want you to own me,” you finally manage.

For a moment, he simply holds you, his chest rising, the wet heat of his skin against your cheek, then a small, almost tender sound leaves him. “Yes,” he breathes, as if confirming something he’s been waiting to hear.

Then, finally, his hips start moving again. You whimper in veneration as his cock slips in and out of you in hard, fast, relentless thrusts that create the exact rhythm your body had been begging for.

Relief and need coil together in your stomach as tightly as he coils himself around you, letting go of your wrists to shield your back from being scraped on the stone with one forearm while driving your hips back and forth along his length with the other.

You shiver against him, tearing off gold chains one by one as you claw your way to his skin, offering yourself fully. Each mark and scrape of your nails is a prayer etched into the body of the divine.

Fiery heat begins to gather in your belly again, spreading throughout your body. You feel the heat of your wetness cut through the lukewarm water, your own arousal trickling into the sacred pool that your bodies are submerged in.

“I waited for you,” you whisper against his mouth, as you took everything he had to give. 

Claim me. Make me yours. Bind me to you forever. 

“Of course you did," he coos. "You could never take care of yourself as well as a god can.”

He angles your hips further, and suddenly, he's brushing against a little gathering of sensitive nerves, and you are screaming into the softness of his throat as your orgasm rips through you without warning, evidence of your ecstasy spilling from all sides of you.

You babble incoherently, unsure if you're even conscious, or if you've slipped into a permanent state of bliss. Crying, sobbing. Clawing his robes. Trembling uncontrollably, like a leaf enduring hurricane winds. 

He holds you through the tremors, both of you slick and shining, bodies pressed together as the heat and devotion settle. And there, in the deepest part of you, he spills his seed. It fills you to the brim, and you welcome it.

It's otherworldly. Supernatural. Transcendental. 

Slowly, you feel the results of your ritual, the mixture of your arousal and his seed, spill from within you into the sacred pool, all baptized together into the altar, a living testament of the covenant you had just forged.

You leave yourself, exit your body, ascend until you find yourself observing the moment from above. The way you tremble beneath Zayne, the God of Annihilation, the one you've given your mind, body, and soul to. The one you will belong to for all eternity. 

And you smile.

Though he didn’t let it show, his heart rate spiked when you invited him to the annual Hunter’s office party. He wondered if you had been asked by anyone else or if you specifically sought him out. There were many options for you to pick to ask to accompany you, yet you chose him … 

You said it was just so you weren’t one of the few without a date, but your brain said otherwise.  It was partly for that reason, but you couldn’t deny the small smile on your lips when he agreed. Even a small part of you hoped no one else asked him, or if they did, he didn’t accept their offer… Maybe he waited for you to ask him…

“Thank you.” You grinned, curling the coat around yourself. It was warm and smelled just like his cologne. The lights of the office came into view, and you noticed the way Zayne’s hand brushed against your own. As you looked up at him, you noticed a slight blush on his cheeks from the cold air. “I’m glad you agreed to come with me. I don’t know what I would do if I showed up and I was the only one without a date.”

A soft breath left Zayne’s nose, a hint of a smile appearing as he met your eyes. Thoughts drifted in his head, and there was one thing he couldn’t stop pondering over…

“Did you think about asking anyone else?” Curiosity laced into his tone, gaze flicking to you for just a second to gauge your reaction. Your pace didn’t change, shaking your head when you thought back to it. There was no hesitation; you were only thinking about asking Zayne.

“No.” The answer was simple, but you wanted to elaborate. “If you had declined the offer, I probably would have gone alone.”

His steps slowed, eyebrows twitching. The muscles in his back tensed as he heard your words, but he immediately straightened up and cleared his throat. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed, looking away from you towards the street. Once he maintained his composure, he looked over at you.

“You probably had men ready to accept your offer… But you would have gone alone if I said no?” He couldn’t help it; he knew people had their eyes on you, and he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t bother him.

“Well—” As you tried to speak, you heard yells from the office doors, some of your friends yelling and cheering. The sound of their cheers turned Zayne’s ears pink, his gaze looking down, but his face remained stoic. 

“Look who finally showed up!” Tara yelled, pulling you into a hug. You exchanged a short look, knowing she had talked to you about asking Zayne to go to the party. Her eyebrows wiggled, and you shook your head, her loud laughter echoing in the parking lot.

“Sorry, sorry. I was taking so long deciding what to wear.” You laughed, walking a step back to be beside Zayne once more. The smell of your perfume surrounded him, and he relaxed a bit, shaking hands with your coworkers. They all knew Zayne. Of course, they did… He did drop by sometimes to give you lunch or a ride home from work if he was off. A few had even asked if he was your boyfriend, to which you denied it, your heart speeding up at the thought.

Tara led you inside, the music pumping through the air. In the cafeteria, tables were pushed to the edges of the room, leaving the middle empty for dancing. The atmosphere was light, yet you noticed some people getting calls on their phones, missions not stopping even in the midst of a party. 

“You have to try this drink!” Yvonne screamed over the music, handing you a blue liquid in a cup. With a whiff, you winced, already smelling the pungent odor of alcohol. 

You took a small sip, eyes locking with Zayne’s over the edge of the cup. A warning gaze met yours when you swallowed, your nose scrunching and your head shaking. With a disgusted expression, you heard Zayne chuckle. He watched you carefully take another drink, needing a buzz to give you a boost of confidence. 

“Careful.” He said in a soft voice, stepping closer to you so he could talk over the music. “I’ll carry you home if I need to, but I really don’t want that to happen.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” You assured him. It was all Zayne wanted to hear that you’ll be okay. Holding out the cup to him, you smiled sweetly, trying to tempt him. “You should try this, though. Once you get past the taste of the alcohol, it isn’t that bad.”

There it was. The look . He couldn’t resist you with that look. You knew that, and he knew that. So he reached out, his fingers brushing yours. Tilting the cup to his lips, he raised an eyebrow, silently giving you a cheers. 

The alcohol didn’t affect him as much as your eyes burning into his skin. He tried to chalk it up to the slight buzz, the way your pupils dilated and unblinking. Even though it hadn’t been but a second since he took a drink, it had to be the buzz… At least, that’s what he convinced himself it was… Your eyes mesmerized him, distracting every thought that tried to pass through his head. Next to you, Tara asked a question, but he didn’t hear it. 

Though he didn’t mean to, Zayne found himself finishing the cup. It wasn’t often that he indulged in alcohol, especially not the mixed drink in his cup, but the only way to get away from your eyes meant looking at the bottom of that cup. It didn’t phase him in the slightest, the liquid courage effortlessly sliding down his throat. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Setting the cup down on the table, he raised an eyebrow towards Tara, a light pink hue on his cheeks. You smirked at him, noticing the way he refilled his cup. He took another small sip of the sweet drink; eyes now focused on Tara to hear exactly what was said.

“I asked if you coordinated your outfits. You guys look so good together!” Tara pointed to the matching colors of Zayne’s tie and your outfit. Heat flickered across his cheeks as he took another drink, ignoring the way the alcohol had already raced through his system. 

The air around you was tense, your eyes flicking across Zayne’s outfit and finally noticing the coordination. He did ask you what color your outfit was going to be… So, he really picked out a matching tie? A fluttering in your stomach made you clear your throat, bumping shoulders with Tara as you watched Zayne finish his second drink.

Okay, I’m finished. Zayne’s thoughts raced as he set the drink down, his lips quirking up slightly as he noticed your gaze flicker from his tie to your outfit. Of course, he did it on purpose, wanting everyone at the party to know he was your date. He felt the eyes on him as he walked in with you, and people recognized him from the hospital. Everything in him wanted to show you off, even if he wasn’t officially yours; he needed everyone to see he was with you.

“Oh, he asked what color my outfit was going to be. Probably so he didn’t lose me in the crowd.” Shuffling on your feet, your voice raised due to the music, making sure that both Tara and Zayne heard you. It was hard to figure out Zayne’s intentions, and you could only assume it was just him tagging along as a friendly date. Even though you hoped for more…

“ Please ,” Tara whispered into your ear, leaning close. You watched Zayne’s eyes travel between you two. “He’s been giving you the fuck me eyes since we walked in here.”

With a laugh, you landed a light smack on her shoulder. You shook your head, stopping yourself from looking Zayne in the eye. It hadn’t been long since you got there, the songs changing about 10 times overhead as you stood and talked. It felt like an eternity; however, the slight glint in his eyes shone bright as he looked at the bottom of his cup.

Zayne held his cup, looking down and debating whether or not he should get another. It’s not like either of you drove here, and his heart couldn’t help but beat faster as he watched the lights dance off your features. His memory was exceptional, still remembering exact phrases from medical school textbooks, and nothing could erase the sight of you standing there, lights flickering and shining in your eyes, out of his brain. If he could choose one moment to relive before he died, that would be it.

Before you could shut Tara down, telling her that you had only asked him as a friend and that you chickened out and took the easy route, you were interrupted by one of your coworkers coming up to you. His eyes traveled between you both, and Zayne’s jaw clenched. It wasn’t until he extended a hand to Tara, his voice softly asking to dance, that Zayne relaxed a moment.

As Tara looked at you, she winked, walking away with the male. Her laughter echoed as a soft song played, her hands wrapping around the man’s shoulders.

Zayne moved closer to you, leaning over to grab another drink. This one wouldn’t be downed in one shot, he told himself that. As he leaned, his shoulder brushed yours. A shiver ran through him; his face flushed as he noticed just how close you were. All he had to do was lean down and-

“Be careful,” Your voice cut off his thoughts, eyes drifting to the cup in his hand. “I don’t want to have to carry you home.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t. I can handle alcohol.” A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he stepped back, his attention focused on you. Taking a small sip, he held his cup up. It was true; he could hold his alcohol well. His balance and posture remained steady when he drank; however, his words, more often than not, betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, pointing towards Tara and the man she was dancing with. Grabbing Zayne by the sleeve, you pulled him closer, turning him around to watch. Their moves were awkward, with Tara stepping on his shoes and him holding her waist a little too tightly.

“They look like they’re having fun.” Sarcasm laced your voice, a small laugh puffing out from your lips as your hand drops from Zayne’s sleeve. As he looked over to them, he stifled a laugh, finding their awkwardness kind of endearing. 

Then, all at once, he realized how close he was to you. His arm brushed against yours, the hand that held his cup tightening slightly. Your perfume surrounded him, and he felt drunk both on the alcohol and his proximity to you. To avoid making his flush even darker, he stuffed his hand into his pocket.

“I think it’s endearing,” Zayne commented, watching them gently sway with the music. Her cheeks were red, hands resting on his shoulders. “I’m sure you’re no better.” 

With a laugh, you looked over to him, raising an eyebrow. Just as you were about to challenge him, you heard someone clear their throat. A man walked in front of you, a crisp black vest over a plain blue collared shirt. He looked handsome, his curly brown hair falling just in front of his eyes. Glasses framed his blue eyes as he gave you a sheepish look. If he was also a Hunter, you didn’t recognize him. When your eyes fell on him, he cleared his throat again, his eyes meeting yours momentarily.

“Oh, hi, I’m Alex.” His voice was soft, words stuttering in random places. “I just started here and noticed how pretty you are.” Another cough and he held out a hand for you. “I was wondering if you wanted to dance?”

Zayne’s jaw clenched. Everything in him wanted to intervene, tell the man that he was your date, and if you were to dance with anyone, it would be him . However, he didn’t push it, eyes flickering between you and the man. He didn’t want to force you to stay by his side, and if you wished to go with someone else, you could. Besides, you were just here as friends .

“Oh,” You looked over at Zayne, seeing his jaw clenched slightly. Part of you hoped he would cut in, but another part knew you were just here as friends. With a gentle smile, you looked at Alex, “I’m sorry, but I’m good. I’m already here with someone.” 

When you gestured over to Zayne, you watched in amusement as Alex’s eyes traveled over, widening as he took in your date’s calm but mysterious demeanor. Having many articles and interviews in the city paper definitely paid off, a flicker of recognition passing across the man’s features. With a stuttering excuse that you didn’t quite catch, he walked away, his ears a bright red.

“Am I really that scary?” Zayne’s voice was soft in your ear, his cologne surrounding you as he stepped closer. The music overhead drowned out a lot of voices, the soft tones pulsing against your ear drums. Even though you left Zayne’s coat at the door, it was like you were enveloped in the fabric all over again. Is this what it would feel like to be wrapped in his arms?

“No,” Chuckling, you watched him take a sip of his drink, the tips of his ears red from the alcohol. “At least, I don’t think you’re scary…”

His eyes scanned the crowd, watching the men meander around and confront some of the women still standing along the walls. Sure, you were also standing there, admiring the people dancing… But you were standing next to him … Why would they come up to you?

It took him a moment to come back to reality, his gaze falling back on you. That was all that mattered. People could be intimidated by him or scared of his naturally stoic expression, but as long as you weren’t… Nothing else mattered.

“Good,” Zayne said, setting his cup on the table behind him. As the song came to an end, Tara and her partner stood on the dance floor. After a few moments, they walked deeper into the room, closer to the speakers. 

A more upbeat song came on, and you smiled at Zayne, focused on the way his eyes darted over your features. With a gentle smile, he nodded, the alcohol affecting him in more ways than one.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” After a small nod, he walked away, weaving through the dancing people. It was somewhat awkward trying to get past people doing everything but grinding against each other.

While he was away, you turned to the table, taking in the beautiful decorations. As a celebration of all the hard work over the last year, the Association decided to throw the party. It was amazing, the small snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and icy white projections making it seem like you were outside in the middle of winter. After all, it was the end of the year, and the cold was already beginning to set in. A subtle shiver ran through you, thinking back to Zayne’s cologne wrapped around you along with the warmth of his coat.

“Excuse me?” A male’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, the face of a man you barely recognized filling your vision. He was very close, his cologne filling your senses. It wasn’t bad, just strong and distinctly not Zayne …

“Oh, hi?” Giving him a small smile, you stepped back against the table. Just a little bit of space… 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” He chuckled, one of his hands behind his back while the other was pushed into the pocket of his slacks. It seemed he decided just to dress business casual and while he didn’t look bad, you couldn’t help but compare him to the beautiful outfit Zayne came in. Your thoughts always drifted back to him… “We work an office away from each other, Stephen?”

“Yeah, Stephen!” Nope, no recollection. A laugh with no intent behind it left your lips, your eyes drifting around the room to find Zayne. He wasn’t there to scare the guy away…

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me?” Stephen asked, his ears bright red as the song changed to one that was much slower. 

The thought of dancing to that song with him was unappealing. Your heart raced as your mouth fell open. Stuttered half-words fell from your lips as you looked around. You did not want to hurt his feelings, but you did not want to dance with anyone but Zayne.

Your attempt at a rejection was cut off by someone standing in front of you, his back nearly pressed to your front. Zayne’s cologne overwhelmed you, and you smiled, looking from around his shoulder as Stephen took in Zayne’s appearance. Far too handsome for an event like this…

“Actually, they already have a date, and we’ll be dancing now.” Zayne’s icy voice cut through the music, his tone polite but curt. With a nod, Stephen left almost as quickly as he appeared, his cheeks now matching in tone with his ears.

A short laugh fell from your lips as Zayne turned around, the tips of his ears red, and his eyes focused on yours. While it was most likely the effect of the alcohol in his system, you couldn’t help the shy smile; your eyes drifted to the ground. The way he looked at you was so intense as if he was committing every detail to memory.

“Thank you for coming to save me.” With a smile, you let out a relieved, breathy laugh, your heart returning back to normal as Zayne looked at you. 

“Well?” His voice was soft, the song wrapping around him and causing his already tipsy mind to go to other places. He held out his hand to you, head bowing and eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes. “I thought we were going to dance?”

Oh… He actually wanted to dance? With a small nod, you took his hand, his warm and clammy palm enveloping yours in a gentle hold. It must have been from the tipsy whirlwind going on in his mind… It must have … The calm doctor becoming entrapped in your eyes. You had never known Zayne as one for such intense eye contact, nor did you remember his gaze traveling over your body as it did.

As he led you out onto the dance floor, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Electricity tickled your nerve endings as he stopped, the hand that wasn’t holding yours moving to your hip to pull you just a little closer. Even though the winter air settled outside, there was a warmth that grew between you.

“Is this okay?” Zayne’s voice was gentle, much like the way he held your hip. You were far enough away that you could push him off if you wanted to. Of course, you didn’t want to… As you tried to speak, your voice was lost in your throat, and the close proximity was nothing new; he had been close while listening to your heart and whatnot. But his eyes and his touch were different, and they made you feel like you were the one drinking.

“Yeah!” You spit it out as Zayne began to pull away from you, taking your silence as rejection. After clearing your throat, you rested your hand on his shoulder, stepping closer. “Yes, it’s okay.”

Under the icy white lights, Zayne looked at you, and instead of shivering, he was warm inside. For as long as he could remember, you made your home in his heart, and having you close, his fingers brushing your lower back, caused his already tipsy state to dive off the deep end. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” He murmured, making sure the words were for you and only you. Taking a step left, then right, then back, you let Zayne lead you. The song was very slow, almost one that would be played at a wedding. Zayne couldn’t help the drifting thoughts spurred on by the alcohol… Is this what you would look like if you got married to him? 

“Thank you,” The words were whispered in the air, your feet brushing against each other as you danced to the music. It was like everyone else disappeared, and you focused solely on the man in front of you. His eyes drifted across your face, a gentle smile gracing his lips. If Zayne were anything, it was truthful, sometimes to his detriment, but he would never lie about how he found you stunning, talented, amazing…

“Of course.” His cheeks were bright red, and you were pushed into silence. Your eyes locked onto his as you stepped to the music. The song seemed to stretch into eternity, and you lost yourself in Zayne’s eyes as you danced.

As the song drifted to a close, you stepped away from Zayne. He couldn’t help but stand still, his hand still resting on your hip. When you stepped away, his hands fell to his side, his cheeks a bright red. Whether it was from the alcohol or the proximity of your body, he didn’t know; perhaps it was both.

An upbeat song began to play through the room, and you chuckled, looking around at the table where you had previously stood. With a jerk of your head, a smile graced your lips. “I’m not a good dancer when it comes to these songs. Let’s go.” “Agreed,” He hiccuped, following you back to the table. Somewhere along the way, the alcohol caught up to him, his vision blurring slightly as he leaned against the wall. It was slightly embarrassing; he didn’t want to be seen like this.

“Zayne? Are you okay?” As you spoke, you pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin was unusually hot, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes blinking in a slow flutter. 

“I’m afraid I may have had too much to drink.” Leaning down, his face moved closer to yours. He stared at you, an amused smile on his lips. He chuckled, pulling back and closing his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he nodded, a long sigh hitting you. “I should probably go home.” “How about we head to my apartment? You drove there, and you’re not driving to your house…” you trailed off. “I have a spare bed; you can sleep it off.” With a nod, you held onto Zayne’s arm, beginning to steer him towards the exit. Tara would probably ask you questions on Monday, but you needed to get Zayne home and safe in bed. His bicep flexed as you grabbed his coat. It didn’t look like he needed it, so you draped it over your shoulders. “Ready to go?” You asked, trying to ignore the way his hand brushed across your hip. It was just a friendly gesture, holding onto Zayne’s arm and leading him out the door. The night air was crisp and cold, but Zayne’s face was still bright red, his eyes drifting to the ground, watching the way your hand wrapped around your arm, the way his coat draped over your shoulders. His coat … Wrapped around you…

Your footsteps echoed on the sidewalk, passing bars and clubs with yelling people and bass-filled music. This was a stark contrast to the silence that drifted between your bodies. His skin was warm, and his breath came out in soft pants as fog rose in the air.

It wasn’t long until you made your way to your building, letting Zayne lean on the wall as the elevator brought you up to your floor. With shaky steps, you wrapped an arm around Zayne’s waist, feeling him lean on your body as you unlocked your door. He was silent as he leaned into you, his eyes slowly blinking. 

His mind was whirling a mile a minute, enjoying the way your arm wrapped around him. Your touch on his waist sent electricity down his spine, his thoughts running to what it would feel like to hold you in his arms.

Closing the door behind him, you walked him to the spare room, letting him fall onto the bed with a hollow thump. Chuckling, you watched him lie on his side, looking up at you. He was thinking something, his eyes searching yours, and although he was a bit tipsy, it was still hard to read his expression.

“Sit, please,” Zayne asked, patting the spot next to him. Moving to sit against the headboard, he watched you sit facing him. With his heart beating in his chest, he closed his eyes, thoughts fluttering around like butterflies. You were so distracting with your beautiful face and the way you looked at him. Sometimes, he could imagine that you felt the same way.

“Do you need anything?” Worry spread through you as Zayne closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard. It wasn’t often that you saw him drink, and there was no way you had seen him like this… What if he was sick? 

“You,” His mouth caught up to him, his eyes shooting open as he realized what he said. Your eyes widened, wanting to speak, but you couldn’t. With a sigh, he relented to his mind, his hand rubbing along his shoulder to release some of the tension that had built up there. Silence echoed in the room, and Zayne swallowed, the feeling of your eyes on him making his skin tingle.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” He sighed, watching your expression for any sense of discomfort or disgust. That was the last thing he wanted… And he wasn’t sure if he could live in a world without you. The thought of losing you made his chest hurt, and he shook his head. “I… I understand I’m springing this on you, but now that I’ve said it, I guess I should let it all out in the open.”

“Zayne-”

“I… I can’t bear the thought of being without you, and if this ruins our friendship and our professional relationship, then so be it.” Crossing his legs, he ran a hand through his hair. His normally colder expression turned to one of exasperation and worry. “But I feel things for you that a friend wouldn’t feel for a friend. My body reacts in ways that nothing else can cause except you .” Your breath hitched, listening to the words fall from his lips. He really felt that way… All of your dreams rushed back to you, the thoughts of going on dates, visiting his office with lunch. His feelings made everything clear. He felt the same way …

Except what if it was the alcohol? What if he was only saying these things because he was past the point of tipsy? Alcohol can make people say things just to get into bed with someone… Who’s to say that it isn’t affecting Zayne the same way? With a sigh, you looked down at your hands, seeing Zayne’s fingers twitching on his stomach.

“Zayne…” You started, your heart racing quickly. Wanting to believe him and also knowing the effects of alcohol on a person’s feelings. “I think it’s just the alcohol speaking. You need to rest.”

Your hand brushed against his shoulder, and his head spun. Just the smallest touch from you made his muscles freeze, his fingers clenching. He couldn’t take it, every touch and glance, his heart beating so fast. The fact that you didn’t believe him was slightly frustrating, but he also understood. Maybe in the morning …

“Yes, rest.” With a nod, he looked at you. “Let’s rest.” His eyes drifted down to your hands, wondering what they felt like on his face, or his neck, or his chest… “Is it too much to ask if you’ll stay here with me?”

He knew he was pushing it, your own belief wavering at his suggestion and the alcohol running through his system. Desperation flowed through his veins, and he wanted so badly to wrap his body around you. His soul ached to be closer to yours, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

“Uhm…” Humming, you searched his face. Of course, you trusted him; he wouldn’t pull anything funny, but what would happen in the morning if he woke up with you in his arms? Would he regret what he said? Would he even remember ? Taking a deep breath, you relented, nodding your head. “Let me go change into something more comfortable… And I’ll be back.”

Before he could say anything, you walked out of the room. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you changed into comfortable pajamas. Standing in the middle of your bedroom, you took a few breaths. Half of you wanted to climb into your own bed and let him sleep it off. The other half wanted to crawl into his embrace, kiss him, let him hold you close.

The latter half won, and you walked into the spare room, finding Zayne already under the covers. Resting his head on his hand, he sat up, watching you with a smile. The blush on his cheeks was illuminated by the lights of the room. He had flipped the covers back, silently inviting you. A small smile forced its way onto your face, and you shook your head.

Climbing into the bed, you immediately felt his warmth. As you lay on your back, you felt Zayne’s eyes on you, trailing down your body to the edge of the covers. Your face heated up, looking over and catching him staring. With a laugh, you turned over to face him, your eyes searching his face.

“What are you thinking?” It was a dangerous question to ask the tipsy man who just confessed to having feelings for you that a friend shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. His breath sped up as he looked at you, his hand hanging off his waist. 

How could he describe what he’s thinking? That he needed you in every sense of the word? That he felt incomplete when you weren’t around? That no matter what he did, his thoughts always drifted back to you?

“I’m thinking about you, laying right here in front of me.” His voice dropped low, lips curled into a small smile. Nothing could stop the way he admired you, like nothing else in the world mattered. Nobody could take him away from you; nothing could take him away from you… He would always find you. “I’m thinking about how my heart calms whenever I’m around you.”

Your skin prickled with each of his words, the distance between you seemingly too much for either of you to handle. Despite your better judgment, you moved closer, watching as Zayne flipped onto his back. With an open arm, he watched you crawl into the empty space. Your arm rested on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under your hand while your head nestled into his shoulder.

It felt nice, but the worries crept up to you as you remembered he was drunk… The thought of waking up in the morning to an empty bed, the aforementioned man gone, along with the hope of any real truth to his statement, was terrifying. Yet you were swayed by his warm embrace, his fingers dancing along your arm as you lay still.

“Just relax, darling,” Zayne whispered, his own body still quite tense. It was everything he ever wanted, to hold you close. While he knew in the back of his tipsy mind that you might only be doing this to appease his drunken demeanor… He also hoped that he would remember this happening in the morning. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

With a deep breath, you nodded, your muscles relaxing as you closed your eyes. It was nice, his fingers slowly dancing up and down your arm. Since you turned off the light overhead, the only source of sight was the lamp on the nightstand. The events of the night caught up to you, and you yawned, your own body preparing for sleep.

“Good night, Zayne.” The nickname he called you… Darling … Your heartbeat sped up, and you took a breath, forcing your eyes to close. If you lay like this for too long, you wouldn’t ever be able to sleep, too caught up in the feeling of his muscular arm wrapped around you.

“Good night, darling.” Zayne yawned, his own eyes closing as the alcohol caught up to him, pushing him into a deep sleep almost instantly.

You laid awake for a few minutes, drifting back to the party, his jealous actions that you brushed off, and then the drunken confession. Was it real? Was it genuine? You weren’t sure, but you fell asleep with the hope that the morning would bring a clearer picture.

--------

Zayne’s eyes ripped open as he felt the sun’s rays on his face. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, with you in his arms, was not something he expected. You looked so peaceful, sleeping soundly in his arms. Your chest rose and fell with each breath, and Zayne smiled.

Wait… What happened?

Looking around, Zayne took in his surroundings, realizing that he was still in his formal attire from the party and you were dressed in pajamas. His mind drifted to the party, remembering the men coming up to ask you to dance… The drink in his cup slowly disappeared with each clench of his jaw. It was sweet and tasted just like candy. 

“Fuck,” Zayne couldn’t help the expletive, pressing his head further into the pillow. Why couldn’t he remember?

His erratic breathing and small movements shifted your body. Your eyes opened to the sight of a flushed Zayne looking around the room. Your heartbeat sped up as you remembered everything that happened.

“Morning.” You whispered, sitting up. His eyes flicked over to meet yours, his cheeks a light pink as he moved to sit against the headboard. “Do you… Uh, do you remember what happened?”

Zayne’s heart sped up, clearing his throat. He never wanted to lie to you, and he had to admit he was curious about what had transpired, seeing the position he had woken up in. With a shake of his head, he looked down at his lap. “No… No, I don’t remember.”

Your heart sank, throat constricting around all the words that you wanted to say. Of course … When he figured out what he said, he would probably regret it, taking back all of the feelings he had shared with you.

“Oh… Okay.” With an awkward chuckle, you tried to pull back, escape the room, and wallow in tears for a bit. The thought of being so elated that he shared your feelings only to look up and see sharp icicles ready to pierce you. “Well, I guess you can go now if you want.”

“Wait,” His voice was firm, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He didn’t want you to go, and he didn’t want to leave without resolving whatever happened. Judging by the look on your face, he knew something happened after you left the party. “What happened? At least tell me.”

He wished he could just remember , but perhaps it was the alcohol that kept him from retaining all the memories. Perhaps it was just his own brain that knew what happened and didn’t want him to remember…

“Uhm…” You paused for a moment, caught between wanting to tell him exactly what happened and lying. At least if you lied, you could continue your friendship with no hurdles. Except for the deep hole in your heart when you heard his voice in your head saying those lines over and over. I feel things for you that a friend wouldn’t feel for a friend …

“Please tell me. I want to remember.” Zayne pleaded, his voice desperate. If there was anything he wanted to do, it was remember . “I want to know…”

It was embarrassing even thinking about it, much less saying it out loud. With a breath, you closed your eyes, not wanting to watch as the realization set in. “Well, you said that you felt things for me that a friend doesn’t feel for another friend… Then you asked me to join you in this bed… Then you said that your heart calms down when you’re around me…” You cleared your throat, your body heating up as you recalled the last part. “Uhm, you also said that your body reacts in ways around me… Yeah.”

Silence fell between you as Zayne stared at your face, your eyes still closed in fear of seeing the regret and realization pass across his features. It took a moment for him to realize everything that you said, his mind vaguely remembering the words falling from his lips. “I did?” His voice was nearly a whisper, disbelief in his voice with a hint of embarrassment. How could he do this? What if it ruined his entire friendship with you… He could lie and say it was just the alcohol, but could he really say that he didn’t mean it when, deep down, he just wanted you to know his true feelings? “Oh, I- I’m sorry. If I ruined things between us.”

Your eyes remained shut, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you heard his voice. Fuck . So he didn’t mean it; he didn’t reciprocate all the things you felt for him. With a sigh, you struggled to speak, wanting to ask if it was true but also not wanting to hear the answer…

“Did you mean it?” Your mouth started the sentence before your brain could stop you, and your eyes fluttered open to see the deep blush on Zayne’s cheeks. This time, it wasn’t the alcohol… “Everything you said, was it the alcohol speaking, or do you actually feel that way?”

“Of course, it wasn’t the alcohol.” He was caught now, and he had no choice but to admit the truth. He couldn’t lie to you, especially after hearing the vulnerability in your voice as you asked him. “I actually feel that way about you. You’re beautiful and, talented, and kind. I think about you every second of the day, and there isn’t a moment of my life where I don’t want to be near you. I can’t help the way my body reacts around you…”

“Oh,” Looking down at your hands, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced as he looked at you, your own body reacting to his words. You wanted him, and it seemed he wanted you just the same. 

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way…” He trailed off, his dress pants bunching around his thighs as he moved to get off the bed.

“Wait!” Your hand on his wrist stopped him, his skin now freezing cold compared to the night before. “I do, though. I feel the same way.” You clarified, trying to calm your beating heart with a few deep breaths. Just the feeling of your hand on his wrist made Zayne clench his jaw. Every atom in his body vibrated as he smelled your fragrance waft around him.

“Really?” His eyes trailed down to your mouth, watching as your tongue darted out to trace along your bottom lip. The thoughts he so often fantasized about flashed in his mind, and he wanted so desperately to reach out, pull you closer, and never let you go. A flash of deja vu passed through him, and he turned his body to face you. He remembered this… 

“Yeah, really.” Your hand moved to rest on top of his, feeling his muscles strain and tighten under your fingers. Watching as his eyes drifted to your lips, a surge of need flowed through you, and you sat up on your knees. 

“Well then,” Zayne moved, taking your hand in his. His body angled towards you, legs stretched out on the bed. With a small tug, he pulled you closer, your hand now burning into his shoulder. Your warmth emanated through his entire body, and he sighed. The feeling of you so close made his heart feel complete. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart raced, Zayne was asking to kiss you … It was all you had ever wanted, and now that he was there , asking to kiss you… The only thing you could do was nod in confirmation, moving so your nose brushed against his cheek.

Zayne’s hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing along your cheekbones. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, his heart thrumming so badly he was worried he might not survive even kissing you for the first time. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitance, his nose nuzzling yours. His breath mingled with yours as he felt your hands on his waist, your knee pressing against his thigh as you inched even closer.

“Are you sure?” He needed confirmation to know that you wanted him just like he wanted you. A trepidation passed over him as his voice pleaded with you.

“Yes, I’m sure…” You breathed, smiling in hopes of easing some of his obvious tension. “I want you to kiss me, Zayne.”

It was all you had to say before Zayne pressed his mouth to yours. His lips were chilly, and he was slightly awkward, the way his nose bumped yours. It had been a long time since he kissed someone, and never this intensely , and never did it feel that good. The hands on your cheeks barely touched you, like he was afraid of holding you too tight.

So you took the initiative, moving your leg over to straddle his thighs. Oh my god … Your hands played with his collar, pressing your mouth into his. Soft smacks and low moans fell from Zayne’s lips as you kissed him, his cheeks a cherry-red and getting hotter by the second.

Zayne pulled away first, his head hitting the wall behind him. His touch traveled to your hips, holding you still. If you moved up any further, he would have a very big problem… The sensations were too much, and he needed to take a deep breath, afraid he would make a mess of his slacks and embarrass himself even more.

“Hold on,” He panted, taking in the sight in front of him. You were so beautiful , sitting softly on his thighs, your own chest rising and falling with deep breaths. The way your hands held his collar, your lips glistened with saliva, it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Do you want to continue this?” Your voice shot right through Zayne and straight to his cock, his slacks becoming even tighter than they already were. The feeling of his hands on your hips, a ghost of his presence against your skin, made you frustrated. If only he would touch you … “Because I do.”

Zayne stared at you in disbelief, his abdomen clenching as he closed his eyes. Never in his dreams did he think he would be in this position, your perfect thighs on either side of his own, hovering dangerously close to his hips. Your eyes, watching his every movement, every twitch of his eyebrow, every small quirk in his lip. Your fingers played with his collar, drifting close to the buttons of his shirt. The need to just rip open his shirt and see him laid out for you was high, yet you needed confirmation.

“Yes, yes .” He breathed out, pulling you forward to kiss you again. The thoughts of his inexperience didn’t hinder him; he needed you in every sense of the word. “You have no idea, darling, how much I want this. Want you .”

His words were pressed into your mouth, your tongue tracing his bottom lip before entering to tangle with his. A low groan echoed in your chest as Zayne’s hands moved you up onto his lap, where you could feel just how excited he was. Your clothed pussy pressed against his erection, both of you feeling the shocks through your body.

“Please,” He groaned, your hands playing with the buttons of his shirt. The fact he slept with this on, just for your comfort, so you didn’t feel weird with a half-naked man sleeping next to you, made you smile. With quick fingers, you pushed his shirt off his shoulders, your lips still meeting between moans. His skin glistened with sweat as you cupped his jaw, your lips moving along the expanse of his neck and shoulder.

You were careful not to make marks, and your sloppy licks and nips only made red spots that would disappear by the next morning. That doesn’t mean you didn’t want to mark him; make sure he remembered what you two did. Each nip was accompanied by a groan from the man above you, and his hands remained motionless on your hips.

“Zayne,” Your hands ghosted across his abdomen, thumbs brushing his nipples before moving to rest on his shoulders once more. A gasp fell from his lips as you said his name, his hips adjusting and his cock brushing against your pajama pants. “You can touch me, grab me, anything .” 

But I don’t want to hurt you … His thoughts echoed in his head; eyebrows furrowed as he held onto your hips just a bit tighter. Something deep inside him was scared , like one wrong move, and he would cause you pain. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but hearing your voice broke him out of his fear slightly.

“Just… If I do anything you don’t like…” His voice was a whisper pressed against your shoulder, his hand playing with the hem of your shirt. “Or if anything hurts , please tell me. I haven’t done this before… And I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”

As his hand slipped under your shirt, you gasped, nodding along to his pleas. His fingers were cold, and your nipples immediately hardened as his thumb brushed your left breast. He was testing the waters, his mind clouded with need but also hesitance. 

The way his large hand drifted across your skin, along your stomach and breasts, you couldn’t help the moan that brushed across his shoulder. He needed to touch you, all of you , and as he reached your back, his nails lightly scratched your skin, enjoying the way your thighs clenched around his hips.

“Yes, fuck.” Your forehead rested against his bare shoulder, your hand gripping his skin tightly as his fingers danced up and down your back. “I’ll tell you, but I need you right now, Zayne.”

With frantic hands, you tugged your shirt off, enjoying the way Zayne’s eyes widened only for a moment before you were standing up. “Pants off,” you motioned to the man on the bed, your hands pushing your pajama pants down. You didn’t mean to be so demanding, but as Zayne’s fingers twitched slightly, his cheeks flushing deeper red, it was clear he enjoyed it a bit.

Zayne fumbled with the button of his slacks, his fingers shaking in anticipation of what was about to happen. A gasp echoed in the room as he struggled to take his pants and briefs off, his cock pressing against his abdomen as he finally let the pieces of fabric fall to the floor. Sitting back on the bed, he looked at you, eyes pleading silently.

His pupils dilated as he took in your naked form, from your feet to your thighs, to your stomach and breasts, all the way up to your face. He didn’t miss the way your gaze settled on his cock, and he blushed, knowing he was big but hoping you were okay with that.

Walking towards him, you settled back into your previous position, his cock now nestled between your slick folds. Arousal dripped from your entrance and coated his balls as you rubbed yourself along his length. His hands gripped your hips tightly, muscles in his arms straining.

“Wait,” He stopped you, his jaw clenched as he felt a pool of his own precum settling just below his navel. With a shaky breath, he looked down, seeing only his tip poking out from between your bodies. “I’m afraid if you keep doing that, I’m going to cum.”

His honestly always amazed you, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you nodded. Your hands wandered across his body, thumbs tweaking his nipples and watching as he closed his eyes and groaned. 

The noises he made were so pretty , each moan and groan only adding to the dripping slick that covered his thighs and cock. You wanted to hear every single variation, every moan, and whimper, every gasp and whisper, but hopefully that could be for another time.

Zayne knew what was coming, the sight of you on top of him, your hand drifting dangerously close to his cock. Leaning over to the nightstand, he grabbed his wallet. His cheeks bloomed red as he brought out a foil packet. As he met your eyes, he chuckled, shaking his head at your teasing smirk.

“This is just a precaution… In case something like this happened…” He stuttered, his hand shaking slightly as he looked at you. Sex wasn’t something that was on his mind often, yet he knew it might come up, and he wanted to be prepared. The fact that it was with you … It was his dream come true. “I mean if we did something… Or someone else… Or-”

Your hands covering his stopped his rambling. You laughed, taking the packet from him and ripping it open with your teeth. Scooting back just enough to take hold of his impressive cock, you stared straight into his wide-open eyes as you slid the condom onto his length. He swore he could cum just from that alone, your gaze piercing through his soul and making his cock twitch as you released him.

“Oh my,” He gasped, his hands moving back to your hips as your pussy glided back across his cock once again. “Don’t tease, darling.”

A silence fell between you both, your eyes searching one another for any hint of hesitance. Your hands drifting from his chest to his shoulders. Leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, softer than the previous clash of mouths and tongues. Zayne’s heart raced, his thumbs brushing along your hip bones as you kissed him, and he relaxed a bit.

“Are you sure you want this?” You asked, your lips only centimeters away from his. The light from the sunrise filtered through the curtains, casting a beautiful orange hue across the room, and Zayne couldn’t think of a time when you looked more stunning than you did now. Your body displayed in front of him, your eyes following his every move and your smile , asking to make sure he really wanted it, and fuck of course he did.

“ Yes ,” He couldn’t say anything else that would convey just how badly he needed you. No amount of whining or pleading could ever show you how much he wanted to be buried deep inside you. “There’s nothing else in the world that I want more…”

Time seemed to slow down as you stroked his cock, sitting up on your knees to position him at your entrance. His attention flickered from where his tip nestled against your hole to your eyes, hooded and watching him like a hunter with their prey. Keeping your plea in mind, his hands tightened on your hips, feeling you sink down onto his cock in one fluid drop.

It was like the air was knocked out of your lungs, his thick cock stretching you out so deliciously. Your heart rocketed against your chest, your nails digging into his shoulders as the back of your thighs finally laid flush against his hips. The curve of his cock pressed right into your sweet spot, your pussy clenching around him.

Zayne needed to take a breath; his eyes squeezed shut as he centered himself. Breathe … In through his nose and out through his mouth. It was insane to think, but he felt complete , like he was made to fit inside you, to fit against you or even next to you. One of his hands moved to cup your breast, the other drifting behind you to knead the flesh of your ass. He needed his hands on you, all over you, and hopefully, in the future, inside you .

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his tone one of shock and awe. The thought had you laughing, and you pressed another kiss to his lips in appreciation. His hands were still cold, and you shivered both from his touch and from the way he looked at you. It was like his hands were making a map of your skin, drawing imaginary lines and dips that he could chart on his journey to touch every inch of you. 

“Thank you,” You moved your hips, feeling his cock rubbing against your walls. A soft hum fell from your lips, your head tilted back, and your eyes closed as you enjoyed the slow drag. “You’re quite handsome yourself.”

He wasn’t sure what to do, his hands roaming along your body, caressing every inch of skin he could reach. It was all so much , the feeling of your thumb brushing his nipple and the way your pussy so perfectly fluttered around him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes closing in an attempt to prolong his orgasm. Although he tried desperately, his fingers curled tighter on your ass, and you were sure you would have a bruise there in the coming hours.

“You- you can move now,” He stuttered out, his tone nearing a whine. His suggestion sounded more like a plea, one that you were happy to oblige. Sitting up, you felt the smooth drag of his cock, until only his tip was nestled inside. You picked up the pace, sitting down on his cock over and over and over. Each time was even more pleasurable than the last.

“ Fuck ,” Zayne didn’t indulge in swear words very often, but the circumstance seemed right. His mind was so caught up in the way your thighs slapped against his own, the noises echoing through your apartment, that he didn’t realize the tight grip he had on your hip. His fingers dug into your skin, and his jaw clenched tight as he tried so hard to will his orgasm away for just a few more minutes.

Your breasts bounced in his face as you rode him, your moans wrapping around him and pulling him closer to you. Without warning, his nose pressed into your chest, right between your tits. Claps and groans filled the air, his tongue lapping at your salty skin. His hazel eyes shone as he looked up at you from his spot between your breasts. 

To tease him, you stopped momentarily, your hips flush against his. It was fun toying with him, watching his eyebrows rise and mouth gape open in a gasp. The furrow in his brow made your stomach leap, a soft groan coming from behind his closed lips as he stared at you. Desperate to be closer to him, you leaned forward, pulling him up from his spot between your tits to press your lips against him in a harsh dance.

Zayne hummed, his tongue pressing and wrapping around yours. A trail of spit dribbled from the side of his mouth, his need and desperation showing in the way he held you. One of his hands dug into your hip, the other now pushing against your back until your chest was flush against his. His heartbeat matched yours, the vibrations echoing through his head as he held you close. It was like you completed him, your body fitting perfectly against his. The cold and empty half of his heart had finally found a home in you, and he wasn’t sure why he felt this way, nor exactly what it meant… But his body knew.

“Fuck, darling.” Zayne rested his forehead against yours, biting his lip as your thumb tweaked his nipple again. He loved it, and having never experienced anything like this before, he didn’t know just how he would react. Gasps and lewd moans spurred you on, his hips bucking up into you for some other type of friction - though he had a feeling he might have been able to come just from his nipples alone…

“You like that?” You didn’t mean for your tone to be as teasing as it was; you were genuinely interested, wanting to elicit any sort of reaction from the normally hard-to-read man below you. It seemed like he enjoyed your voice, however, because you felt him twitch inside you, your bouncing slowing down to help him speak.

“I… I guess so.” He fought between his teeth, his thighs flexing under you as you languidly dragged your pussy up and down his cock. Having never done anything close to this before, he had to pride himself on his resolve, his abdomen flexing and releasing as he fought off his orgasm. 

Zayne’s hand on your back moved to your ass, his hand kneading your flesh as you sped up your hips. Riding him was a thrill, feeling his thighs tensing every time you sat fully on top of him, his hands both guiding you and helping you grind your clit against his stubbly pubic bone. 

You weren’t prepared for the way he suddenly leaned forward again, his face pressed against your chest. Turning his head, his nose brushed against the side of your breast, his warm breath fanning across your nipple. In an attempt to silence himself, he sucked on the skin of your chest, leaving a dark red mark. His tongue flattened along your flesh, moving to the side and nipping at your other breast. 

Seeing the way your chest moved in front of his face, your moans echoing around him, and your pussy clenching him so tight … He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. His hand dug into the flesh of your hip, his other hand lifting to bring your nipple to his mouth. Gasping, your hand flew to his hair, holding him against your chest as he dragged his teeth along your skin.

With a hiss, you pulled him off, seeing his apologetic look before his tongue flattened across the sensitive nub. His warm mouth enveloped you, his tongue flicking and doing things that made you second guess his claim of it being his first time. 

Your hips stuttered, clit grinding against his abdomen with each thrust. His hand held you so tightly, guiding you to ensure you were feeling just as good as he was. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and you whimpered, the combined sucking on your tit and each thrust that filled you to the brim; it was too much.

“Zayne, I…” You stopped, a vibrating hum pulsing through your body as the man below you nodded. His own hips stuttered, jerking into yours as he tried to help you there. Caught in his own heat, he wrapped his lips around your nipple, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“Oh my god , Zayne.” You moaned, closing your eyes. The heat ignited in you, feeling Zayne’s groans against your chest as he came undone, emptying into the condom. It wasn’t but seconds later that you followed, your pussy tightening around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. 

It wasn’t until you stopped that you realized just how much your knees ached, and you fell into Zayne’s arms. Feeling the stickiness of his sweat and spit on himself, he rolled you over so you were lying on your back, your limbs stretched out across the bed. Standing up, he let his eyes trail across your body for a moment, admiring how beautiful you looked in the afterglow, the sun greeting you from behind the horizon.

Quick steps brought him to your bathroom, disposing of the condom and splashing some cold water on his face and chest. His eyes met his reflection in the mirror, and he chuckled, somehow thinking he had traveled to another dimension or was stuck in a dream. 

Except when he saw you laying there, your body glistening and spent, he knew it was real; he wasn’t imagining it. Slipping on his briefs, he joined you in bed, his heart speeding up as you curled into him. Your still naked body pressed against him, chin resting on his chest as you analyzed his features.

“Zayne…” You started, your mind wandering to thoughts that you hoped weren’t true, yet you couldn’t help but worry. “Did this mean anything to you?”

He pondered it for a moment, his hand wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you so you were lying fully on top of him. Looking down at you, he smiled, closing the small distance to press a kiss to your lips. It was innocent, holding the hope of something real in it.

“Of course it did, darling.” He said simply, his hands trailing across your hips. Trying to put it into words was hard; just how much it meant to him that you were his first, the one he felt the most connected to. It meant a lot that you felt the same way and that this was the beginning of a new chapter in your friendship, one that drifted more to the romantic side of things. “It meant that, hopefully, this was the start of a new step in our relationship. A step into something more real.”

The memory of the way he held you so tightly popped up into his mind, and his eyes widened. With a jerk of his head, he looked down, inspecting your hips for any marks. He frantically searched you, looking at your jaw, down your neck, across your breasts. A dark red mark in the middle of your chest had his jaw gaping.

“Did I hurt you?” His hand drifted over the mark like he was afraid to touch it in case it caused you more pain. He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you, whether it be due to the intense pleasure or not, it was unacceptable …

“Oh, no.” You shook your head, tilting it to the side to look at him from another angle. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes, a sense of peace washing over you. You knew he would never hurt you, though you had to admit you wanted to see what he could give you if you riled him up enough. “I liked it, don’t worry.”

“Okay… Good.” Zayne smiled, watching as you yawned and lay on his chest. The sun was beginning to rise, but he shifted your body up against his, his arms wrapping around you securely. Throwing the blanket back over your bodies, he closed his eyes. 

Although your relationship was uncertain, you knew he felt the same way, and you wanted nothing more than to make it work. He patted the top of your head, his heartbeat returning to normal as he watched you drift off in his arms. “Let’s go to sleep, darling. I can take you out for a lunch date later before I go in for my shift at the hospital.”

“Mind your step,” he murmured softly, his voice reassuring as the two of you gracefully ascended the stairs. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but notice the envious gazes of the ladies fixed on you.

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

“She’s so pretty… Of course, Dr. Zayne only wants the best.”

“Oh! And I’ve heard they already have a daughter too!”

A smile curled on your lips, a subtle boost of confidence washing over you as their murmurs reached your ears. You felt giddy too—on most days, you were a hunter in a life-and-death situations, rough and rugged. But tonight, draped in elegance and arm-in-arm with Zayne, you felt like a princess.

“Don’t smile that wide...” he suddenly whispered to your ears, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “You’ll look like Meirin when she’s munching on her cookies.”

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

“All those praises are going straight to your head.” Even in a prestigious event like this, Zayne couldn’t resist teasing you. “Sooner or later, it’ll get too big for me to handle.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed glare, you deadpanned, “Shush, you!”

When you reached the main hall, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, blending with the elegant music playing in the background. The hospital director, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted you both along with his wife.

"Zayne, thank you for coming," he said, shaking your husband's hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. His gaze then turned to you. "Ah, this must be the stellar hunter wife of Dr. Zayne. You look absolutely radiant, madam."

"Ah, please don't call me that..." You mustered your most polished facade, supplying a soft, graceful laugh.

The director's wife grinned and added, "Why didn’t you bring your daughter here? Everyone’s looking forward to finally meet her already."

"She's a handful," Zayne immediately replied with a smile, his tone warm and affectionate. "And she gets fussy when her bedtime nears, so we decided to leave her with my in-laws tonight."

The director let out a hearty guffaw. "No matter how fussy she is, she must be really adorable with a mother this beautiful, eh?"

Throughout the night, it was a compliment you frequently heard. While you were flattered, a thought lingered in the back of your mind—what were your husband's true thoughts about all this attention to you?

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

There was a surge of pride whenever he had you on his arm. Just like any man out there, he too wanted to show his hot wife off and flaunt her so everyone could see, as if saying: This is my woman.

But he too knew that it was in a human's nature to covet what they didn't have. And it was rightly proven when he stepped away for just a moment, only to return and find you engaged in conversation with a man.

The hospital director's son, no less.

"Miss, I've heard you're part of the Hunter Association?" he asked you inquisitively. "What a noble profession it is! Keeping all of us here safe on daily basis."

You responded demurely, "And those in Akso do the same, don’t they?"

Your conversation was harmless, and Zayne was a rational man, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene. He just made sure his gaze was on you every so often.

But when the director’s son began persistently offering you drinks, filling your glass time after time, Zayne's patience began to wear thin. The sight of the man’s insistence grated on him, stirring a possessive unease he couldn’t entirely ignore.

. . .

You could’ve sworn your vision swam a little after the third glass of alcohol. The warm buzz coursing through you also made everything seem a little brighter, and left you feeling just slightly off-balance.

"Miss, the white wine here is the best—" the man standing before you declared with a convincing grin, swirling the bottle in front of you. "Don't you want to try some?"

"Ah, no, sir..." you replied with a polite laugh, raising a hand in subtle refusal. "I've already had whiskey and gin just now—"

"Just a little! You really have to try it!"

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck as the alcohol already coursing through your system made your cheeks flush. You didn’t even like alcohol much and only drank socially, but this was the very son of your husband's boss. Refusing outright seemed rude—

“Can you kindly not make her drink too much?”

Or so you thought, until your knight in three-piece suit suddenly stepped in and saved you from your plight.

Zayne’s tone was gentle yet firm, his words striking an authoritative balance. He flashed a placating smile. “My wife doesn’t have a very high tolerance.” Swiftly, he grabbed the glass from your hand and, without missing a beat, downed its contents in one go.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, let it be me instead.”

You knew better than anyone that your husband didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol either. Yet, for the next 30 minutes, you watched, equal parts impressed and concerned, as he matched the man drink for drink, deflecting further offers directed your way with a subtle, protective grace. Though Zayne’s words remained measured, you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

And soon, you’d witness just how far his limits had been pushed.

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

Worry laced your voice as you placed both hands on Zayne's cheeks, your brow furrowing in concern. Somehow or another you managed to drag your husband away and led him to the hotel room.

The warmth of his skin was unmistakable, and his face contorted in discomfort as the vertigo hit him full force. “Oh no, what have you done? Why did you even drink that much!?”

“I’m fine,” Zayne grumbled, his voice thick.

“You’re drunk!” You couldn't help but scold him as you started pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, trying to help him breathe easier. “You can’t even handle alcohol properly, and yet you’re trying to keep up with him...”

To Zayne, your voice somehow felt comforting. His mind was hazed, but your touch—your hand against his neck—felt like a cool splash of clarity.

His pretty wife... The dizziness was making it hard to stay upright, but the sight of you grounded him, and he instinctively leaned into you—

“Zayne—!”

You barely managed to catch his weight, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. He was so warm against you, his breath uneven, not to mention the slight tremor in his body. "Are you alright?!" you asked in a flurry. "Oh, let me get you some water—"

"You talk too much..." Zayne murmured, his words slurred as everything around him swayed.

Gripping your shoulder to steady himself, his unfocused gaze lingered on you, drawn to the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your neck, and the outline of your cleavage.

How can he have a wife this ravishing and do nothing?

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

Or maybe not. It was simply just him finally giving in to his desires.

In one go, he seized your wrist, yanking you against him with sudden force— and with a quick tilt of your startled, precious face, he devoured your lips in heat.

"—!" It was like a spark igniting, burning through every thought. His mouth was urgent, demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel the rush of your closeness. His kiss was intoxicating—almost overwhelming—as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to gain better access.

Zayne's hands moved to your back, pulling you into him, so close that the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then those sinful hands wandered to your hips, guiding you toward the desk. With reckless urgency, he swept everything off the surface, sending objects crashing to the floor with a sharp clang and made you sit on it.

"Ah, Zayne, you—!" You accidentally pushed him back, and he growled the moment your lips parted.

"Are you trying... to escape?" His gaze turned dark with lust, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Why? Isn't this exactly how you wanted me to be...?"

In that moment, you gulped as your heart thundered in your chest. What was even happening now? How did it escalate into this?

You stuttered, eyes widened, "Z-Zayne..."

But your husband had shed all traces of his usual composed self. In the haze of his muddled thoughts, he was driven purely by need. He swiftly removed his glasses, tossing them aside without a second thought, and this time—

His lips went straight for your neck, which, unbeknownst to you, had looked so enticing to him all evening.

"Hahh..." His breathy grunts were hot against your skin and his touch no longer gentle but firm and possessive. His mouth moved with a mix of hunger and desperation, and you struggled to contain the moans as his hands slipped inside your dress, and—

A shiver ran down your spine when he spread your legs, and you couldn’t help the titillating gasp that escaped when inserted his two of his fingers in you all at once, edging you.

"Ungh, ngh! Hah—" Your body jerked and you clung to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Zayne wasn't usually this brash, but tonight it was as if a screw had come loose.

"Louder," he commanded in your ear, and your heart pounded at his authoritative voice. He pushed his digits deeper as if punishing you, that you yelped. "Do not hold back."

He lifted you by your waist, effortlessly pressing you against the small table by the window. You were on the 20th floor, the world below far out of sight, but the thought that anyone might catch a glimpse was somehow... thrilling.

"I-I'm close—" you stammered, and the moment you did, your husband vigorously moved his fingers inside your squelching folds, "A-ah!"

The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The way your walls took his fingers alone made your thoughts scatter, and when you came undone on him, you latched onto him, your head resting against his chest as your breaths came in shaky, uneven gasps. "Z-Zayne... please..."

He pulled out his fingers, looked at your cum coating them, and brought them to your lips. You, still trembling, sucked the essence off with teary eyes.

Sweaty, disheveled, lips swollen and cheeks flushed... how he had reduced you into this state was gratifying.

Zayne’s gaze darkened, his breath heavy as he stared down at you. "Are you ready to take me now?"

You nodded.

He gave you a small smirk, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw gently. "Good girl."

He lifted you over to the bed, and you gasped in surprise as he tossed you onto the soft sheets, the motion quick but not unkind. You barely had time to react before his intense gaze locked onto yours, his presence domineering above you.

“Spread your legs.”

Was this man really your husband? Sometimes, you still struggled to reconcile the tender part of him and the man consumed by a unrestrained intensity before you now.

By now you had swallowed all shame and did so. You wanted to look away, but then unable to when the sight before you caught your breath—

All the while, he had his eyes on you. Zayne pulled at his tie with deliberate intent, then he shed his suit pieces, casting them to the floor with a casual abandon, before undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest altogether.

Your husband looks so hot. The way he gazed at you throughout it all too...

He glanced at the space between your legs. “Wider.”

You complied, letting your face burn impossibly hotter, anticipating him.

He eased in slowly, starting with just the tip. You whimpered at the intrusion.

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

"No," you refuted quickly, desire too burning in your gaze as you met his eyes. "I can take more."

You arched your back as Zayne sank deeper, his full length filling you. A moan tumbled from your lips as your walls clenched in response, and he pushed himself completely inside you.

"Hah..." You inhaled sharply, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his entire length, and seeing you like that, your husband cradled the side of your face with his palm.

"So beautiful..." Zayne whispered, his glazed gray-hazel eyes fixed on your spent face. His other hand clasped yours, pinning it beside your head. "My wife... is so incredibly beautiful."

It was heart-fluttering to know that your husband found you pretty. Everyone might compliment you the same way, but his were the only one that truly mattered. After seven years of marriage, your heart still skipped a beat every time he held your gaze like this.

Without warning, Zayne started to move his hips. Your moans got louder and unabashed as his movements were slow at first, before he picked up the pace and thrusted in and out of you with fervor.

"Ahhh!" You threw your head back as his thick cock messily dragged itself against your walls. In, out, in out— Stars began to blur your vision, your nails digging into his shoulder as you reached for him.

You could see that excited glint in his eyes, the lust exploding at the sight of you. He watched you intently, savoring the way unbound desire twisted your face, each mewl you made filling the air. Your thoughts turned into puzzle pieces—

Thrust. So full, you are.

Thrust. What if... this time— you become pregnant again?

Thrust. That would be... nice. You can call it “New Years’ baby.”

Everything was incoherent. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, each hit to that one spot sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing you to the brink of tears and screams.

Then, unexpectedly, he reached his climax first. His cum shot through, filling your womb to the brim in spurts after spurts, and you cried, trembling beneath him. Your release followed suit though, and you went limp in the aftermath.

Zayne collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, his name still falling off your lips as a whisper in his ear, a gentle song laced within moans. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, panting heavily against you.

“I love you.”

The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a tangled web of desire.

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

With a groan, Zayne cracked his eyes open the morning after, instantly recognizing the dull ache in his head—it was a hangover. But before he could press his hands to his temples, his gaze fell on you, curled up in a blanket next to him.

And the whimper came again, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“What’s... wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice, turning toward you, his hand instinctively reaching for you despite the pounding headache. “Are you alright...?”

You blinked up at him, a flicker of resentment in your gaze, and Zayne gathered you into his arms. The events of last night came back to him in fragments, and realization dawned on him.

“Are you... sore?” he murmured, concern edging his tone.

“I hate you,” you retorted in a scratchy voice, mushing your head in his shoulder. Zayne widened in slight surprise, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

He gently patted your head and back, trying to soothe you. The sight of you—vulnerable and distressed—made his heart tighten with a pang of guilt. Just how rough had he been with you last night?

“There, there, it’ll pass...” he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s normal... because we went longer and more vigorous than usual... Probably just mild irritation in your—”

“Don’t pull medical facts on me,” you muttered sullenly, weakly punching his chest. A smile made its way to his face at your mini attack.

“But it’s true though?”

How endearing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his heart softening at the sight of you, even in your grumpy state.