#heyy

"Oh—okay? If you're feeling unwell you should—"

"I'm fine." Then he was gone, his coat rustling as he rushed to his office. What were you trying to do to him, sending him such provocative pictures in broad daylight? 

When Zayne reached his office, he shut the door with a sigh and locked it. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he slowly stalked over to his desk and sank into his chair. 

He sat there for a moment, hand hovering over the phone in his pocket, contemplating whether or not to take a second look. 

Zayne shouldn't. He was already half-hard. He wasn't proud of it, but he couldn't help the way his body responded to you and seeing you all posed and naked again definitely wasn't going to help.

Then, like you already knew he was spiraling, another text came in.

His chest tightened, his hand hesitantly curling around his check the message. Zayne glanced down at his screen, and there was your text. 

Zayne exhaled, awkwardly shifting in his seat. 

You: You saw my pictures. 

Simple. Yet so teasing. 

You: Did I get my Zayne all cute and flustered?? <3

Very teasing. You knew what you were doing, didn't you? And worse, it was working. 

Zayne shifted in his seat again, his thighs tensing as he subtly tried to find some relief. Then quickly, he groaned, pressing back into his chair like that might keep him still. 

Because no. No, he wasn't doing this. 

Zayne: During my shift?

Zayne: You know better. 

You: Do I?

You: [1 image attached]

Against his better judgment, he tapped on the picture and nearly forgot how to breathe. You were a vision. Even when you were sending the most teasing pictures known to man—God, you were gorgeous. 

You: I just can't help it

You: I miss you so much 

I miss you. 

Zayne's eyes narrowed, tilting his head in his hand. Teasing or not, those three little words would always undo him. 

He missed you too—always did—but he couldn't let you off so easily. No, not after those crude pictures.

Zayne: You miss me

You: Mhmm

Zayne: Then you'll be good tonight. No games. 

You: And in the meantime? You're not here to stop me...

You: [1 image attached]

Zayne's jaw clenched, rolling his hips and sighing when he found nothing but the fabric of his jeans that were suddenly too tight. 

Christ.

The things you did to him. 

Zayne: Take that off. 

Zayne: Sit on your hands.

Zayne: And don't touch yourself.

Zayne: I'll know if you do.

He watched as three bubbles popped up, disappeared, popped up again, then disappeared once more.

After a minute, you finally typed back with proof of just how good you were being.

You: Yes, Zayne.

You: [1 image attached]

He twitched in his jeans. You were going to ruin him if you kept sending pictures like that. The only reason he'd let this one slide was because you were listening.

He typed back.  

Zayne: Good girl.

Then he huffed, his dick giving another traitorous twitch at the praise. He could imagine how riled up it would get you. How you would squirm and pout because you couldn't do anything after that. 

Zayne stood up, his cheeks a shameful red as he slid his phone back in his pocket.

What was he doing, humoring his girlfriend's sexting while he was at work? 

He stopped at his door, taking a steady breath. He had to calm down. Had to will his painful erection away before anyone saw him like this. 

Zayne adjusted his coat, making sure it covered the obvious tent in his pants before stepping out and shutting the door behind him. 

He nodded politely at a passing nurse, hoping she didn't see the furious blush coloring his face.

God. You were going to pay when he got home.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

Zayne glanced at the clock as he stepped into your shared apartment. 1:43 a.m. He sighed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

It was late. 

But he knew you. Knew that you'd still be up, waiting for him.

He washed his hands in the sink—thorough but tired. It was his routine. He always had to wash his hands first thing when he got him.

When he finished drying off his hands, he started stalking toward your shared bedroom. 

He quietly stepped in, glancing around. The room was quiet, lights dimly lit, and then there you were, curled under the blankets. 

Zayne moved closer, his chest squeezing when he saw the way you sat up and turned to him the minute you heard his footsteps. Your eyes were tired with sleep, your hair mussed from the pillows, and—when the sheets spilled down around your hips—still naked. 

"Hi," you breathed, a sheepish smile pulling at your lips as he padded closer. 

Zayne stopped in front of you, then slowly, he leaned down and captured your lips in a long, reverent kiss. He cupped your cheek and held you firmly, like you might slip away otherwise. But you both knew you weren't going anywhere.

You eagerly kissed back, bringing your hand up to his. Just when you gently swiped your tongue across his bottom lip, Zayne pulled back.

You frowned, but you didn't say anything.

Zayne eyed you carefully. He noticed it then—you were nervous. The look made him narrow his gaze and tilt his head. 

You didn't behave, did you?

He studied you a second longer, then quietly, he asked, "Did you behave?"

"Yes, I did," you breathed, squirming in your spot as you watched Zayne's gaze drift over you. 

"Are you being honest?"

You paused at that. "I... I didn't touch myself."

Zayne nodded, slow. "So something else did. What was it?" His voice was deceptively gentle. 

You didn't answer at first. You didn't want to answer, but your hand subconsciously drifted toward your bedsheets and tugged it close. You should've kept still though.

Zayne took the sheets from your grip and examined them. Then, he found it. A damp patch, like the fabric had been stuff between your legs. 

Zayne stared at it, his mere scrutiny making your stomach flutter. "I.. I didn't—I mean, I didn't finish."

Zayne gently dropped the fabric and met your gaze again. "That wasn't the point, love."

You whimpered at the pet name. 

"I'm sorry. I just missed you so much and I—"

Zayne cupped your jaw and kissed you again, harder this time, but not cruel. Never cruel. 

"Lie down," he murmured as he pulled back.

You blinked up at him, eyes already glossy. "Zayne, I'm—"

"Shh. Lie down."

You didn't argue. You simply lied flat on your back and brought your hands over your stomach, heart beating so fast you thought Zayne might've heard it. 

Zayne nodded in approval before stepping away with the bed. He didn't speak. Didn't look at you, just quietly shrugged his coat off and draped it over the hanger behind your door. Then he loosened his tie to finally take it off.

Meanwhile, you sat there and watched the. The over-confident brat from earlier was long gone. Now, all you were left with was a desperate need.

When Zayne finally undid his shoe laces and nudged them off, he made his way back over to you. You stared, your body drumming with anticipation as he calmly settled into bed next to you.

"What are you doing?"

"Lying down beside you," he replied, carefully grabbing your hips and turning you over so your back was facing him before pulling you into his chest. 

Zayne sighed, pressing his lips to your shoulder like he'd been waiting all day to do this. "You made me hard in the middle of shift today," he murmured, dragging his fingers over your stomach. 

Your breath caught in your throat, your body instinctively arching into his touch.

"I had to keep a straight face and pretend I wasn't losing it," he added, kissing up your neck. 

At the same time, he brought his hand lower, easing toward the cleft between your thighs. He nudged you, softly, letting you think he might actually touch you before pulling away. "And you knew what you were doing. Didn't you?"

Your hips bucked in protest, but Zayne only clicked his tongue as a warning. 

You sighed. "Yes. I knew."

Zayne's breath fanned against your skin as he let out a shudder. "I thought about you all day," he whispered, his fingers sliding up to graze the underside of your boob. "Thought about how warm you'd be under these sheets... How pretty and pouty you'd look when I told you not to touch yourself."

Your whole body burned with desperation. You wanted him to touch you—needed him to touch you. Really touch you. Not just brush his fingertips over your skin with that teasing cool.

"What am I supposed to do when I miss you?" you asked, shifting against him. 

Zayne's hand traveled tantalizingly close to your sweetest spot. He so, so close, just not quite there. He teased his fingers down your inner thigh, the touch pulling a light shudder from your body. 

"You wait, or entertain yourself with the resources I got you. You don't send me nudes while I'm at work." 

You gasped when you finally felt his fingers slide through your slick folds. 

"And if I tell you to behave, you certainly don't rub yourself on the blankets."

You jerked your hips against his hand, but Zayne gave another low click. "Be good."

His other hand curled around your chest and cupped your pillowy breast. "Tell me what you did. Walk me through it." 

Your mouth parted, but all that came out was a breath. You couldn't speak. You were shaking and he'd barely even touched you. 

Zayne hummed, pressing an open mouthed kiss against your shoulder. "If that's too much, then show me."

He firmly cupped your mound, fingers pressing deliciously against your needy flesh. "Go on. Show me what you did when you were too desperate to wait."

"W-what?" you managed. 

"Pretend my fingers are the blanket. What did you do?"

Your cheeks burned from embarrassment. "Zayne..."

"[❀]," he replied, gently shifting his fingers. 

Your lips opened in a silent gasp. You were so pent up. Any little movement had you reeling. Had you fighting everything in you not to rut against his hand like a woman possessed. 

You rolled your hips once, your body shaking with the effort of holding back. 

"Is that all?" Zayne mused, his mouth still working over the skin of your back. "I find that hard to believe given the mess you left on our sheets."

You bit your lip as you gave another weak roll. God. It was too good. You nudged your hips back, moaning when you found the perfect angle. 

Then you started again, slow, shaky. You'd occasionally stop and squeeze around his hand—just keep him there for a little. And when you couldn't hold back anymore, you started over. 

And Zayne never moved. Just patiently kept his hand between your legs as he watched—felt—reenact what you'd done earlier. 

When you felt your stomach coil a little too tightly, you stopped with a stuttered movement. "And then—and then I stopped."

Zayne was still kissing you, his lips practically melted against your back. "You were close."

You bit your lip and nodded.

"Finish."

Your hips almost moved on instinct. You turned your head over your shoulder, trying to look at him. "You'll let me?"

Zayne hummed in assurance. "Go on."

You didn't hesitate. You ground yourself against his fingers, curling one hand against his (the one on your breast), while you fisted your other hand in the sheets. 

You should've been embarrassed, but you weren't. All you were was a girl chasing down her orgasm like her life depended on it.

"That's it," Zayne whispered, feeling every broken little thrust as you got closer and closer to the edge. 

Then, with a raspy gasp, you were coming undone, spilling yourself down his hand, down your thighs. You sunk your nails in his hand, but he didn't pull away, didn't even wince.

Just let out a quiet groan and reflexively squeezed around your breast tighter. 

"Is that what you needed?" Zayne murmured.

You gave a lazy nod. "Mhmmm."

You thought that was it. That he would kiss you and forgive you for misbehaving the way he always did. But then you felt him rubbing firm, languid circles over your clit. Again.

You squeezed your legs around him, whining. 

"Z-zayne! What are you—!" Your sentence trailed off on a desperate mewl as he moved faster. 

He knew your body better than you did, and he was using that to his advantage. He avoided all your perfect spots before, now he was hitting them over and over and over again. 

"You didn't think I was going to let you off that easy after today, did you?" Zayne asked, eyes fluttered shut with concentration. "You wanted attention. Now you have it."

Your stomach curled tight, limbs tingling at the way he wrung out every drop of pleasure you had to give.

"Mmnn..! It's too soon!"

Zayne moved faster at your protest. "You earned this, remember?" he murmured, his words ghosting over your shoulder. "This is what happens when my sweet girl can't behave."

You squirmed, pressing the side of your face into your pillow and whimpering quietly. "Z-Zayne!"

Zayne hummed quietly, slipping his hand away from your breast to cup your jaw and tilt your face. His eyes roved over yours, drinking in every twist of pleasure. 

"You're doing so good," he muttered, pressing his lips to yours and tensing when he felt your moans spill into his mouth. 

It was addicting. 

He wanted to swallow every last sound. But he was never one for self-indulgence, so grudgingly, he pulled away. 

"Will you give me another one?"

You shook your head no, even as your body screamed yes. 

Zayne furrowed his brows. "That wasn't a question," he murmured, his voice so soft you might've thought he was coaxing a nervous animal into his hands. "You'll give me another one because you couldn't seem to resist the urge to send me nudes today."

He worked his fingers over your throbbing clit with expert precision. He used the perfect pressure. The perfect strokes. The perfect speed. It was the kind of skill that made your vision blur. 

"Isn't this what you wanted?" 

Your lips parted with a guttural cry. You could feel the heat in your stomach curling tight.

"For me to touch you?"

"Yes! But—! Hhnn'but—"

You bit your lips to try and keep your sounds down, but it was pointless. Your hips jerked forward as they chased the friction of his fingers like he wasn't already making you lose your mind. 

You didn't think you could come so soon, but you were getting achingly close again. 

"Then I'm going to touch you until you can't take it anymore," he husked, his cock twitching painfully in his jeans. But this was all about you. About how pretty you fell apart. "Just like you wanted."

Your body seized as your second orgasm ripped through you, your hand shooting down to wrap around his wrist. You weren't even sure if you just wanted to hold him or push him away. 

"Good girl."

Oh, God. Any thoughts of pushing him away melted the instant you heard those two words. You'd do anything to hear that. 

"Th-thank.. you.." you breathed out. 

Zayne let out a sharp breath. He carefully drew his hand away from your face, instead curling it around your chest again. 

For a second, you relaxed. 

Zayne seemed to relax too, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. It was so sweet and gentle. 

Then you felt him moving again, the slick sound filling your ears and making you clench around nothing.

God. You couldn't possible be capable of another orgasm.

You dug your fingers in his wrist. "Nnnh—Wait!"

"You're not done."

You whined, desperately trying to twist away, but Zayne only curled his arm around you tighter and pulled you flush against his chest. "You have one more in you," he breathed. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes. "I-I don't—I can't—" you choked out, trying to push his wrist away even as your hips helplessly rolled into his touch. 

"Yes you can," he said, his words quiet and full of awe. It was less like a demand and more like a fact. "Look at yourself." His breath warmed your already flushed skin. 

"You're still moving. Still so beautiful."

You trembled. He was right. You were still moving—still torn between squirming away from him and grounding yourself on him like you couldn't breathe without it.  

You let out a quiet little cry, your thighs and stomach burning with the effort of processing the overstimulation. 

Zayne bit back a soft growl. "I've got you."

You couldn't stay still. You were a mess—toes curling, hips jerking, nails digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks, breath ragged. 

And Zayne never stopped. He couldn't. 

Because you deserved this. Every last touch and word.

He continued to work your clit with aching accuracy, his fingers slick with your arousal.  

"You're doing so well," Zayne praised, his wrist burning from the repeated motion. 

You bit your lip to stop the whiny cries from slipping past, but it barely helped. They'd just come out in low hums.

You couldn't come again, you just couldn't. But your body said otherwise. It was soft—needy—and you could feel that familiar heat curl low in your belly again. 

You couldn't tell whether to cry or moan. 

It was too much, too fast. 

"Wait—I'm—"

A breathless moan tore from your throat as you came again, your body trying to curl in on itself. But Zayne didn't let it. He held you tight, his fingers finally slowing as he worked you through your third orgasm. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed, his body never leaving yours.

When the final twitches of your aftershock washed over you, Zayne carefully turned you around and hugged you to his chest. Didn't wait or tease. Just quickly tugged you toward him.

And you melted into him. You wrapped your arms around him and held onto him as tightly as you possibly could (which wasn't that tight). 

Zayne stroked your head, gently messing with the ends of your hair, the feeling making you tingle. 

"I'm very proud of you," Zayne finally whispered, a subtle smile tugging at his lips when he felt you hum against him. "I hope you learned something today."

You nuzzled into his chest and murmured a soft, "I did."

Zayne kissed the top of your head. "Good girl. I'll start the shower for you."

You smiled lazily against him. "Thank you."

Zayne grudgingly peeled himself away and stepped toward the bathroom. He let out a stuttered huff and ran a hand through his hair. 

He was throbbing in his jeans. Precum had soaked through his boxers and dampened his jeans, but it was all worth it. 

You were always worth it.

—

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