sahar

"I think I will. Do you keep notes of my dietary preferences in my chart?" You keep your voice low enough so as to not be overheard, with the added bonus of looking like a lovers' chat.

"Would that be wrong?" He almost smirks, just enough to have your stomach twisting into knots. The dim restaurant lighting catches the edges of his face, softening him in a way you've never seen before. This was no longer Dr. Zayne. This was someone entirely different, and you weren't complaining in the slightest.

"What are you gonna order?" You peer over to the dish he points out, skimming the summary on your own menu. Your eyes catch on one detail immediately.

"It comes with carrot puree." You grimace, remembering every lunch you've shared where he's pushed the orange vegetable to the side of his plate.

"Are you sure you don't want the salmon instead? It's heart healthy and there's no carrots." He sighs at your words, a soft exhale that's almost fond. But when the waiter comes around, he does in fact order the salmon, shooting you a glance that says are you happy now? And you are. You're happier than you have any right to be.

"So, will you finally tell us the story of how you two got together?" Tara leans forward, chin in her hands like a child waiting for a bedtime story. "The last time you mentioned Zayne, you said it was practically hopeless to try for a relationship with him!”

You feel the heat creep up your neck. You know Tara means well, but a part of you wants to leap over the table and strangle her, just to prevent her from uttering another word and exposing your lie. Zayne's hand slips to your knee under the tablecloth, a steady pressure that makes you want to both melt and flee. You try not to go rigid at the touch, forcing your shoulders to relax. He squeezes gently, in a comforting manner, like he can feel the panic radiating off you.

Clearly, he’s trying to save you the embarrassment by promising to not bring this up later. Yes, that must be it. How sweet of him.

Damn him for being so sweet. How the hell were you not supposed to fall in love with him?!

Before you can continue to curse him in your head, you realize that he's begun to explain to the table the totally real story of how he asked you out. His voice is steady and almost too confident, but you suppose it's fitting for a doctor.

"There isn't much to it, really." He shrugs, as casual as anything. "It only took so long because I was worried my feelings weren't reciprocated.” A pause, then a glance at you that's just too tender.

"But once I discovered they were, I knew I had to act on them.”

You smile at the shared chorus of 'awwws' that ripples around the table, busying yourself with your water glass to swallow down the sudden wave of nausea. You take a sip, let the cool liquid settle in your stomach. He was good at pretending. So good you could almost believe him, almost let yourself sink into the fantasy that your feelings were actually mutual, that the way he was looking at you now wasn't just part of the act.

But you know the truth. That it's all a lie.

You're pretty sure he's still talking, something about the bakery, about how nervous he was, but the room suddenly feels like it's caving in on you. The walls inch closer, the chatter of your friends grows distant, and the weight of the deception presses down on your chest until you can barely breathe.

This was ridiculous. You needed to come clean. You needed to tell everyone the truth so that you could get the hell out of here, run back to the city and bury yourself in work and forget any of this ever happened. You can't go a week like this, can't get a taste of heaven knowing it'll be ripped away from you and you'll never experience it again.

"I'm gonna get a drink." You murmur to the table, not meeting anyone's eyes. You slip away before anyone can respond, practically running past the bar and out onto the balcony overlooking the beach. The night air hits you, salt and cool breeze, but it does nothing to soothe the ache in your chest.

A tear slips down your face, but you're quick to wipe it away, angry at yourself for letting it escape. Maybe you were overreacting. It was just a week, right? Seven days. How different was it from the nights you'd spent laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling and imagining what it would be like if Zayne was next to you? At least now he actually was. That should count for something.

“Are you alright?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You don't turn around. You can't. If you look at him now, with the moonlight shining on his features and concern clear in his knit brow, you might lose what little composure you have left.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I guess I’m just not a very good liar.” You murmur, leaning against the cold metal railing. A warmth is placed on your shoulders, smelling cedar and pear. You pull the fabric of his jacket closer, still not looking up.

“If you wish, I could tell everyone you’re tired from the train ride? Perhaps you’ll feel better after some rest.” He doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but he knows there’s more than you’re letting on. You hum in agreement, feeling him step closer until he's shoulder to shoulder with you, both of you looking out to the vast sea stretching endlessly before you.

“For what it’s worth…I’m glad you chose me for this trip.”

You don't know what to say to that. So you say nothing.

You wait for him by the elevator, room key in hand. The guilt you feel over abandoning dinner is outweighed by your exhaustion at this point, so you don’t feel bad as Zayne joins you, his presence oddly reassuring. He hits hitting a surprisingly high number on the row of buttons, and the elevator hums as it begins to rise.

“They must have gotten us a nice room.” You note, mostly to yourself, but he hums in agreement. Ever the gentleman, he takes the key from you to open the door, holding it so you can step inside.

Oh wow.

The room takes your breath away. Clearly, they’d spared no expense. Floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the moonlit sea, plush carpeting that muffles every step, a gorgeous ensuite bathroom with marble countertops and a deep tub you desperately want to sink into. And then there's the bed.

One huge bed.

You and Zayne turn to each other at the same moment, clearly both thinking the same thing. I mean, of course they would give you a room with one bed. They thought you were a couple. Couples share beds. That’s what couples do.

But do friends share beds?

"I can sleep on the floor, if you'd be more comfortable?" Zayne offers, already scanning the room for extra blankets. But you're quick to refuse, shaking your head before the words are even fully out of his mouth. The mere idea was ridiculous. You were two adults after all, fully capable of sharing a mattress without anything happening. You'd known Zayne a long time, it's not like you were strangers or anything. You could totally do this.

"We can share the bed. It's not a big deal." You manage to come off much more nonchalant than you'd expected, shrugging even as your heart pounds away in your chest like a trapped bird. Hopefully he won't give you a check-up on this trip. If anything is going to give you away, it would be that, considering the way your pulse jumps every time he's close.

"I'm going to take a shower first, if that's alright?" Zayne states, already moving toward the bathroom. You know he's probably dying to get the train germs off, so you agree quickly, grateful for a few moments alone to compose yourself.

When the bathroom door locks, the soft click echoing in the quiet room, you allow yourself to sit on the edge of the bed and breathe. Deep inhale. Slow exhale. You count to ten, then do it again.

Your earlier spiral had been a fluke. You felt better now, truly. Just look around! You were at a gorgeous resort with your closest friends, and the man you loved was only a few feet away. Sure, he didn't love you back, but you were making your peace with that.

The sound of the shower turning off makes you shake the thoughts out of your head, sighing as you sink deeper into the plush mattress. But before you can dwell on the situation too long, the bathroom door clicks open, and you turn on instinct.

And what a sight you’re greeting with.

Zayne's hair is wet, dark strands clinging to his forehead and dripping down his neck. Droplets trace his jaw, catching the dim light before running along his collarbone and disappearing lower. His abdomen is even more toned than you'd imagined, lean with the muscle definition of a sculpture. Sure, you knew he worked out, but looking at his biceps now, the way they flex as he runs a towel through his hair, your mouth nearly waters. When your gaze trails even lower, towards the towel slung precariously low on his waist, the faintest hint of a shaven happy trail visible above the white fabric, your head snaps away so fast you nearly strain your neck.

"I left my clothes out here." Is all he says in explanation, only sounding a little embarrassed. His voice is rougher than usual, but you push the thought aside.

You hum in response, trying not to stare and distracting yourself by imagining what it would be like if his suitcase got lost at sea and he was left only wearing this towel.

You know, normal thoughts about your close friend.

When he emerges in a plain t-shirt and plaid pyjama pants, you can't quite meet his eyes. Instead, you snatch your own bundle of clothes and step into the bathroom, setting the spray to the coldest setting possible. The shock of it against your overheated skin does nothing to cool the images seared into your brain.

You take your time, if only to delay the inevitable. You go through every step of your routine with agonizing slowness. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash that you definitely did not pick because it reminded you of him. You do your skincare, patting each layer into your skin. You apply a dessert-scented lotion that you totally did not pack in case a situation like this occurred. No, it was all just a coincidence.

Finally, when you can't stall any longer, you step back out into the bedroom.

He's flipping through a book, glasses perched on his nose, the lamp casting shadows across his face. It's almost sick, how attractive he is. The way his brow furrows slightly as he reads, the way his lips part just a fraction. You slip into the bed, sighing at the feeling of the luxurious sheets against your skin, and trying very hard not to think about the fact that there's less than a foot of space between you.

“Should I turn off the lamp?” He offers as you lay down on your back.

"If you're done reading?"

He nods, and the light shuts off with a soft click. The clink of his glasses hitting the nightstand is followed by the rustle of sheets as he settles in beside you. The moonlight illuminates the room just enough for you to see his silhouette resting on the pillow, and then turning to you slightly. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, a presence that's both comforting and terrifying.

"Goodnight." He whispers softly, the word barely audible.

Your heart clenches. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like if this were real. If you could reach out and touch him, if he would hold you close, if you could fall asleep in his arms.

"Goodnight, Zayne."

You close your eyes and try not to think about the morning.

taglist: @chlefnikkl @ihavebooze @drgn-sky @pixiu-palindrome @zainaaryam @manhattanstrawberry @bird-is-reading @angeleclair @strawberry-rainclouds @thirstingoverladslis @mybabygab @jaysguitars @foxinnie8 @dvktea @mochibunnies3 @gravitationalbluberry @leighsartworks216 @bluesnectar @burn-it-all-for-your-love @gawa-ng-gabi @smoothopz @lavlynyan @jinnieminniemoon @blacksnape123 @risagichi @solarsylus @v8n3ss1 @fairyeosy @oolong-tea-leaf @pastelgothfrog21 @crimsonsylus @catmekate @cornthebluedog @silvernight-m @francisca @cacaphonoussouls @hachisenshi @theknightthatturnedevil @tenaciouszombiewombat @livonianmaia @calebunny @applesnowandalilcrow @zayniesnowangel @destinysrequiem @3fg7 @d43rsnutnck @poserbowser @pjselee @frostysolstice

it had been raining horribly for days, and going outside was a questionable choice.

you were focused on your screen, watching a silly drama series while clutching a cushion, your eyebrows furrowed.

you truly needed the entertainment, or else you'd bore yourself after thirty-six hours of confinement.

“how dumb, why doesn't he just confess…?” you whispered to yourself, taking a sip of your sweet, warm tea without looking away from the unnecessarily heartbreaking scenes.

just then, you heard a knock on your door.

it was five past eleven, no one in their right mind would go out so late, let alone when it was raining like crazy.

you paused the series and went to your door with soft, hesitant steps, your eyes narrowing.

“...who is it?” you asked, not daring to open the door just yet.

a soft whining noise caught your attention, most likely a puppy's.

did someone abandon a pup on your doorstep?

oh gosh, who'd do such a thing?

you opened it immediately, and when you looked down, expecting to see a wet box with a poor little creature inside, you found a pair of polished yet soaked shoes instead.

“gotcha,” a voice echoed, making you jump and look up.

ah, of course.

valko, with a stupid grin on his face.

“you… what are you—?” the words died in your mouth as he stepped inside, drenched, water droplets falling onto your clean floor.

he discarded his coat and shook his entire body like a dog, not only making a mess, but getting you just as wet.

“valko!” you squeaked, covering your face in a pathetic attempt to protect yourself from the flying water.

he looked around briefly before sniffing the air, his nostrils flaring softly. he left muddy footprints all the way to the kitchen, his large frame looking out of place inside your cozy apartment.

you grunted under your breath, picking up his wet coat with the tips of your fingers, trying to avoid the small puddles he left carelessly behind.

he checked your pantry, then your fridge, his eyes slowly travelling around.

he only turned around when he sensed your presence behind him.

“you can't just come in and make a mess, valko!” you whined, crossing your arms over your chest. “what is this? why are you here so late? and… step away from the fridge, you're wet and you'll catch a cold!”

he straightened up and looked down at you.

“you don't have much protein,” he said, pointing back at the fridge before closing the door. “you need meat.”

you parted your lips to speak, then frowned.

what was this?

an inspection?

he kept walking around, and you followed despite yourself.

now, valko and you had… a thing.

you'd say it was casual, occasional.

you liked him, and he liked you, but you felt it'd be too rushed to invite him over to your sacred place, even though it'd been going on for months.

so, having him here, invading every inch as if he owned the place, was not in your plans.

he entered every room, analysing the furniture and your unmistakable scent.

he sat down on your bed, his large hands dragging one of your plushies over and holding it hostage against his chest.

that's when he finally addressed you.

“it's nice,” he nodded, leaning against the headboard. “it's big enough to have four or five pups running around.”

you immediately felt your skin turn hot, your eyes wide.

your heart almost gave out with how fast it was beating.

“v-valko?”

“okay, what about three?” he arched an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “and then three more when we move to my place. it's bigger.”

you finally had enough.

you stomped closer and yanked the plushie away, holding it close.

this man—

“you can't— you… first of all, you're getting my bed all wet! second of all, you…” you took a sharp inhale, closing your eyes briefly. “you can't just casually mention… c-children, valko.”

he looked down at the damp mattress before meeting your gaze again.

his fluffy ears emerged, and you hated when they did.

it was a vile tactic, a dirty move, especially when… when he made them go all droopy, and his golden eyes looked so sad…

oh, that sweet face…

no!

“stop, valko!” you turned around and closed your eyes. “bad boy, bad!”

seconds later, a pair of strong arms coiled around your waist, easily lifting you off the ground.

he nuzzled the back of your head and inhaled your scent, his tail swishing softly behind him.

“why didn't you tell me to come over sooner?” he asked, his breath brushing the shell of your ear.

you planned to squirm away and get out of his grasp, yet instead, you found yourself freezing in place.

you didn't expect him to ask that.

“why did i have to invite myself in?” he continued, his tone dropping even lower. “you didn't want me here, in your space?”

“valkie… isn't it too soon?” you whispered. “it's only been a couple of months…”

“soon?” he echoed, his fingers digging ever so slightly into your soft tummy. “it's been one hundred and fifty-seven days. that's five full moons, little bunny.”

your eyes fluttered, finally opening after a while. all you could see were your legs suspended in the air.

“we should be married by now. you, marked. me, claimed,” he nuzzled your jawline from behind, lingering there a little longer. “how much longer am i supposed to wait?”

“valko…”

“you keep saying my name. if you like it that much, use it to beg for me to make you mine.”

you gasped, his words making you feel a strange warmth in your chest, and a dizziness you couldn't explain.

he sat down all of a sudden, pulling you onto his lap. your back was against his chest, and he hid his face in your neck, as if it were his refuge.

you thought he'd grow uncontrollable, that you'd have to throw a cushion his way and make him calm down, that he'd mark you right then and there, taking what he saw as rightfully his.

but the seconds went by, slowly, and instead of the situation escalating, you heard a small whine, muffled and low.

his arms tightened around your body, refusing to let go.

“...please,” he whispered. “how much longer, bunny?”

your heart melted.

you didn't know if you were ready.

hell, you didn't even know if he was being serious about the six kids, and if he was, then you had lots of things to think about beforehand.

but the idea of being his, of being marked and claiming him as yours in return, wasn't strange.

you'd had a taste of what valko would be like as a partner for… a lot of days, as he so explicitly recalled, and you didn't regret a single moment spent with him.

“i… i'm not sure yet, valko,” you whispered, not daring to move an inch. “i can't give you a date.”

he sighed, and while you weren't looking at him, you knew his tail had dropped when you could no longer hear it thump against your bed anymore.

“but…” you continued.

one of his ears perked up with interest, his golden eyes now bright.

“but you… could stay the night. get to know where i live, and… explore my space.”

that's all it took for valko to stand up again, turn you around with ease, and pull you against his chest in a tight hug.

his tail wagged like a propeller, and he buried his nose in your hair, shamelessly taking deep breaths to carry your scent with him for longer.

“two more full moons at most,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “no more.”

“valko, i just said—”

“i'll go clean up,” he kissed your lips, tilting your chin up with his index finger just to keep you in place. your eyes shut, and you instinctively returned the kiss, though it took you a few seconds to react.

when he pulled back, he brushed your lower lip with his thumb, noticing how it glistened with his saliva under the soft light of your lamp.

marked.

his.

“don't go anywhere,” he whispered, and that crooked, stupid grin came back to his face.

you were left speechless as he left your bedroom, his chest puffed out, and his fangs showing as he smirked.

you knew he'd take this as an opportunity to snoop around and mark his territory however he could, but instead of irritating you even more, you found it… somewhat adorable.

the rain kept falling outside, and your laptop had long since run out of battery, but you didn't mind.

the wet puppy now invading your space, checking whether you had enough food, whether your windows were secure enough, or whether your plushies were fluffier than him, was far more interesting than anything else.~

when you reach him, you prop your foot on the edge of the tub, making sure to show off your legs. it’s no coincidence they’re slathered in the cocoa-scented body lotion you’d bought as insurance.

as soon as he catches the scent, the motor hidden in his nose kicks on. his tongue darts across lips. “hi.” 

“hi. you having fun in there?” you ask, voice carrying a sultry flair.

“i guess.” his canines are poking out. “the bubbles were a good suggestion. i like them.”

mhm. lucky for him, they cover his skin from his midriff to his ankles. otherwise, you might have already pounced on him by now—roleplay plans be damned. 

“that’s great, baby. but when you go out for a swim like this, you should be sure to take the right precautions.” you puff your chest out, gesturing to your swimsuit. “maybe i can come in and give you some safety tips?”

his tail wags at the idea of you joining him. coughing, he reaches a hand back to capture it. “are you sure, though? your hair’s done all pretty. do you really want to get it wet?”

“it’s okay. i don’t mind getting real wet when i’m with you.” you lean forward to poke his still-twitching nose and shoot him a wink. “i’ll do anything to keep you safe out here. this beach isn't all sunshine, all the time. the waves can get dangerous, you know.”

at that, his tail lashes out of his grip, breaking the water’s surface with a powerful ripple. 

delicious heat spreads through your lower belly. is he that worked up already? 

noting your widening smirk, valko chews his bottom lip. “are you okay?”

huh? “what do you mean?”

“it’s just…usually i like when we play games, but i don’t know which one you’re playing right now. you keep talking like you’re a lifeguard or something, but…i’m not at the beach,” he says, tilting his head to the right in confusion. “this is a bathtub.”

in that instant, the bathwater reclaims its title as the wettest thing in this room. 

your foot slips off the porcelain edge, and your sultry facade fades. as your shoulders sag, you can only look at him in dismay. “dude.”

“what?”

spinning on your heel, you pass the sink, then the towel cabinet. the door swings shut behind you. 

“wait!” he calls. sloshing noises promise nothing good. “come back!”

your swimsuit is already sailing through the air, landing in the hamper as you flop into bed.

maybe you'll try again another day.

no improv, next time.