#zayne ff

He had taken the couch, worried he might overwhelm or spook you if he got into bed with you after everything that had happened. There was no way you weren’t gonna end up in his arms, his hips grinding his dick into your ass the moment his body woke him up. He had to regain some semblance of control, and so, he’d slept on the sofa. When he woke up to a call telling him he had to get to the hospital for an emergency surgery, he’d poked his head through the doorway to his room and found you sleeping soundly, his blankets twisted around your bare legs. He’d smiled, relieved, and had left you a note. By the time he got back six hours later, you’d left, and his note sat exactly where he’d left it on the pillow in his room.

He tried not to spiral, he really did, but it didn’t take long for the old thoughts to creep in. You don’t deserve her, you’ve ruined your friendship by mauling her last night, now she doesn’t want to speak to you. He’d spent the last three days worried he had pushed you too fast that night; he had meant to teach you how to kiss, goddamnit, not lose himself in you. He’s like an addict where you’re concerned, and he worries he won’t be able to return to any sense of normalcy now that he knows how you sound when you come. The way you’d whimpered his name has been the soundtrack to his life every day since, and now, as he shrugs off his jacket in the hallway of yours and Caleb’s grandma’s home, he is itching to see you again.

“Zaynie, you’re here,” A small, white-haired woman walks through the archway and grabs Zayne’s hand, smiling up at him before reaching up to pat him on the cheek, “You’re too skinny. You need to eat more,”

He smiles down at her indulgently, “I’ll be sure to do that, granny,”

“Good,” She sniffs, letting her arm hang off the crook of his elbow and dragging him through to the living room, “Caleb is already here. Dinner will be ready soon, once ___ is here we can eat. Where is that girl?”

Zayne let’s Granny wander through to the kitchen, muttering to herself, and walks over to the sofa opposite Caleb, who watches him with a familiarly blank expression. Zayne isn’t sure when the two of them went from friends to…whatever they are now, but he does know that they’ve grown to tolerate each other for your sake, and Granny’s.

He feels uneasy under Caleb’s eyes, as if he knows every little secret - as if he knows about what he did to you the other night. He wonders with a faint sense of alarm whether you would have told him, but he doubts it. Even so, he busies himself looking at his phone to avoid Caleb’s assessing stare.

Dinner is painfully awkward, and you can’t even bring yourself to look around the table. Just being in Zayne’s presence puts you on edge, his eyes trailing over your form as if he is touching you.

When you’d walked into granny’s house, you had immediately sensed Zayne was already here. Walking into the living room just to see him sitting there, one long leg propped on his knee, his black shirt stretching over the same broad shoulders you’d dug your fingernails into as you’d rocked in his lap the other night. A shiver works its way through you at the memory, and Caleb leans over.

“Cold?”

You look up only to immediately lock eyes with Zayne for half a second, darting them towards Caleb instead, a stiff smile on your face, “No, I’m okay,” you say, but your gaze is soon magnetised to the man opposite you once again.

Zayne doesn’t take his eyes off you, chewing his food slowly. His ears are pink, and you wonder briefly if he’s thinking of that night. You wonder if he’s mad you left, and that you haven’t returned any of his texts, but your worries are washed away when you remember that Zayne doesn’t get mad. At least he never has with you, but maybe now it’s different.

You really hadn’t meant to leave him hanging - that night had been such a whirlwind you’d barely processed it by the time you were unlocking the door to your apartment and walking in wearing the same clothes from the night before. You had never done the walk of shame before, never had the chance, but what you did with Zayne didn’t make you feel shameful. Quite the opposite, you felt hot, charged with a painful desire you hadn’t felt before. The same desire that had led to your hands working their way into your panties the last two nights, trying and failing to recreate the magic that Zayne’s fingers had worked on your body.

The reason you couldn’t speak to him after all that was because you weren’t even sure what you were meant to say, or do. You’d never done this before, never even had a crush on a friend before, and you had realised each time you’d opened up your message thread with Zayne only to close it again in frustration, that you’re out of your depth.

You want him - your thighs ache with it, your underwear already dampening each time you watch Zayne’s fingers shift around his chopsticks, and you know he’s watching you. But he’s your best friend, he’s one of the most important people in your life, and you can’t bear the thought of somehow messing up and losing him.

What if you’re bad at sex? What if he gets impatient or annoyed when you don’t know how to make him feel as good as he made you feel? You’ve heard horror stories from your friends about their first times, and you’d gotten close to having sex with a guy back in college, but you had chickened out the moment you walked into his dorm room and saw the condoms on his nightstand.

He hadn’t even kissed you, and he’d bought condoms.

But there’s a part of you that thinks it would be different with Zayne. He’s a man, not a boy, and the raw, feverish way he’d kissed you the other night makes you hope that maybe it would be enjoyable. Maybe you wouldn’t be writhing around in pain like your college friends used to describe their first times.

The idea of it suddenly makes you clench hard; new, foreign muscles locking tight at the idea of Zayne’s hands on your body again. When you shift in your seat, Zayne glances over at you again, his eyes trailing from your lips, lower and lower until he’s staring at the part of your body hidden by the table. His hand clenches tight into a fist and he pushes back from the table suddenly.

“I should go, I have an early shift at the hospital tomorrow,” He doesn’t look at you after that, smiling warmly at Granny and waving at Caleb, who waves back half-heartedly, more focused on his noodles.

Your lips part in surprise, and when Zayne disappears into the hallway to grab his coat, you stand too, “I should go too, Granny. I have some work to do before tomorrow,”

The lie stains your insides with guilt, but you can’t let Zayne leave, not without apologising. Pushing the chair back in, you leave your near empty plate and walk briskly into the hall, finding Zayne just as he’s slipping his jacket, adjusting the collar before he pauses, staring at you.

Granny and Caleb are still within earshot, so you nod towards the door, indicating for him to go outside so you can talk. He does, his eyes wide and unguarded, darkening with that familiar heat, but he blinks, and it’s gone. He nods back, turning to open the door, keeping it wide for you to slip through, grabbing your jacket on the way.

It’s chilly outside, but you let your coat hang from your fingers, staring up at Zayne. The confidence from a moment ago has vanished, and you’re left standing before you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His breath leaves his parted lips in a soft cloud of white, and when he speaks, his voice is strained.

“Please put on your coat,”

You shrug into it, gasping softly when Zayne reaches forward, as if he can’t stop himself, grasping the buttons and silently doing them up until his hands brush your chin. The contact of his skin on yours has a heady, warm feeling gathering in your stomach, and his hands linger under your chin for a few moments. When he moves away, you can finally breathe.

“I just wanted to, ah, apologise,” You begin, cheeks warm. It’s like you’re a teenager all over again, “I shouldn’t have ignored your messages, I was just…” Words fail you, and you lift your eyes to meet his soft gaze.

“You don’t need to apologise, I understand, ___. You don’t have to explain,” His eyes shutter, the softness that was there now replaced by something haunted, “I went too far. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t blame you,”

His words throw you for a loop, and you’re struck into silence, wondering if you read him wrong, “What? Why would you think that?”

As soon as the words leave your lips, you realise, shaking your head. If you hadn’t gone radio silent after leaving his apartment, he wouldn’t have assumed the worst. Zayne has always been like this; shouldering the blame, running on this misguided belief that he should know better, that he isn’t just human like the rest of the planet.

Stepping towards him, your hand lands on his chest, “Zayne, no. You didn’t…I wanted that. What we did,” you feel warm again, but you push on, desperate to wipe that tortured look from his face, “I want you. I…I’m sorry for making you think otherwise. This is all new to me,”

As the words spill from your lips, you watch as Zayne’s pupils dilate. You get a hint of the man he became the other night when he kissed you senseless, and you want him to do it again. You need his lips on yours like you need the air in your lungs; it’s a part of your chemical make-up now, this need for Zayne. It’s knitted in your bones, tucked beneath your ribs, throbbing hot and wet between your legs.

“Zayne,” You murmur, tugging his coat gently, desperate for him to touch you, “please, kiss me again. Just like the other night,”

A harsh breath leaves his lungs, deflating his chest as it caves in under your hand. His palm lands in the dip of your waist and you instantly decide there are too many layers between you. He’s breathing deeply, his breath ruffling your bangs as you gaze up at him, “___, please,” his hand grips your coat, fishing the material like he needs to steady himself, “I c- if I kiss you right now I’m - I’ll never stop,”

“Don’t stop,” You plead, running your hands over his chest, moving under his jacket, “I don’t want you to stop,”

His jaw clenches, and he grips your hand, tugging you along towards his car. Your stomach dips with excitement, nerves, arousal, you’re not exactly sure which exactly, but you know that whatever is about to happen will wreck you, ruin you for anyone else, and you think you might already be half in love with Zayne as he tucks you into the passenger seat, his knuckles brushing your thigh through your stockings.

With a hard swallow, he backs away, closing your door and walking around the front of the car. He gets into the driver’s seat, silent save for the ragged way his chest rises and falls, and pulls out of the parking spot so fast you have to hold on.

Zayne is going to fucking combust if he doesn’t get you naked within the next thirty seconds. He’s sure he broke several traffic laws driving to his apartment, and as he pulls you to the elevator in the lobby of his building, he wonders whether he can bribe security to turn off the camera in there.

He forces himself to hold it together, not even able to speak to you for fear he will spew all the filth that’s currently rolling around in his head. He needs to remember you’ve never done this before, that he should be gentle with you, but the words you spoke to him outside your grandma’s house taunt him.

I want you, I want you, I want you.

He’d already been half hard when he left that dining table, thinking he was deluding himself to believe that you were squirming in your seat because of him. Because of the way he was unable to rip his eyes from your pretty, pink lips the moment you turned up. An image of them wrapped around the head of his dick has him bracing against the wall by the elevator for support, and you reach out, a hand on his forearm probably thinking he’s ill or something.

The elevator dings, and he wastes no time pulling you inside and waiting impatiently for the doors to close. He can hear you almost panting, and that little voice in his head tries to convince him you can’t want him as bad as he want’s you. That you don’t feel this unbearable fire running down his spine simply because he’s standing beside you. He wants to push you against the wall, to take your mouth again, to make you taste like him, but he tries, using all of his mental fortitude, to remain in control.

It feels like it takes an hour to reach his floor, and he threads his shaking fingers through yours, needing to feel your skin on his in some way. You have this uncanny ability to ground him and knock him on his ass all in one breath, so by the time you both make it to his door, his cock is pressing eagerly against the fly of his jeans. He almost drops his keys twice trying to open the door, and as he drags you inside, you surprise him by gripping the back of his neck and tugging his lips to yours.

White hot need courses through his veins, the keys are dropped somewhere on the floor, the door is kicked shut and within seconds he’s got you up in the air, dropping your ass down on the console table by the door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” His hips are rocking between your thighs, the the table knocking into the wall, his heart thudding hard when he notices you’re panting just as hard as him. Your lips parted, hands grasping and tugging his coat into you both successfully get it off his shoulders, letting it land in a heap on the floor, forgotten in the haze of heat and lips and tongue.

He feels like he’s drunk; his coordination is impaired, vision blurry when he pulls back, looking down at you. The rough sound of his voice cuts through the mayhem, “You want this? You really want this?” He asks because he’s, honestly, in disbelief that this is happening right now. He can’t quite comprehend how the angel in front of him, gazing at him with dilated pupils, red lips and a blush coating your neck and chest, wants him.

“Yes,” You whine, and he just about fucking comes, “Please, Zayne, I need it. I’m aching so bad,”

He might cry if you keep talking, so he kisses you instead, picking you up and walking you blindly in the direction of his bedroom. He murmurs against your lips the whole time, so gone for you that he’s not even sure what he’s really saying, “I’ll be so good for you, ___. I’m gonna make it so good -”

You moan against him, grinding your clothed pussy against his stomach. He finds his bedroom, knocking into the door frame in an effort to get you in there as quickly as possible. When he drops you on his bed, he just has to stare at you for a moment, catch his breath, maybe, but mostly he just wants to convince himself that this isn’t some twisted fucking dream.

His eyes flare and he has to bring his hand to palm his erection when you start wriggling out of your clothes. He almost wishes you would stop, because he’s dreamt about peeling every layer off of your body himself, but he can’t quite bring himself to step towards you. His brain jump-starts back into action once you get down to your underwear, and he plants a knee on the mattress, a hand on your wrist when you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear. He’s in a trance, eyes locked on the little bow in the centre of your panties.

He wants to put his mouth on you so badly.

“Zayne,” You whisper, it’s almost a moan, your soft thighs rubbing together as you squirm under his stare, like him just looking at you turns you on. The feeling is fucking mutual.

His thumb brushes the bow, his other hand dropping beside your waist. He can feel the heat of your skin, soaking into his bones, and he knows that he won’t come back from this. He thought that what you did on Friday night would be the end of him, but he was so wrong. This right here will obliterate him.

He sighs shakily, thumb running over your mound, his teeth sinking into his lower lip when he reaches the dampest part of your underwear. You’re soaked, all for him, so wet that he can smell the sweet, huskiness of your arousal, and he abandons all prior concerns about his control, dipping his head to press his nose directly into your wetness.

“Oh,” You murmur raggedly, wiggling your hips to try and get his nose to rub against you just right. He inhales you deeply, pondering in insanity that he may need to find a way to make a candle out of this scent, before he lifts his head a little, looking up at your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” His voice is unrecognisable, and he swallows in an effort to moisten his vocal chords enough to tell you all that he has kept bottled up. If he scares you off now, it’s no matter, it’s far too late for him, “I’ve fucked my hand so many times thinking of this, of you,”

You don’t say anything, but your thighs try to close around where he is currently seated between them. He runs his palms up your thighs, gratified beyond belief to see goosebumps following his path.

“I need to eat you out,” He says simply, eyes boring into yours, waiting for you to give him even the barest hint of consent. He needs to taste you on his tongue, needs to lick deeply inside you until you come again, until he's haunted by the feeling of your cunt clenching against his mouth. He’s out of his mind over the smell of you, the wetness that coats your pretty, white panties with the little bow that he’s sure will haunt him for the rest of his life. “Tell me I can, ___, please,”

“I’ve never…” You don’t need to finish, because he already knows. He witnessed you get soaked from just his kiss, watched enraptured as you came wetly over his fingers. He knows you’ve never had it and there’s a primal roar of satisfaction in his chest at the knowledge that he’s the first man to taste you.

“I know, beautiful. Do you want it? You don’t have to say yes,” He murmurs, even as he licks his lips. He wants to make this good for you, he meant that, and if he’s going to have the privilege of fucking you today, he needs you to be ready for him. He needs you soft and pliant and comfortable - the idea of causing you discomfort makes him want to keel over.

A swallow works down your delicate throat, and his eyes flare, another wicked idea flitting through his mind. If you let him, he will mark you up, he will lay his claim on you, no matter how much he might not deserve to.

“Yes, okay,” You say, brows knitting together. He doesn’t move, hands settling on your knees, pausing your movements as you part them for him.

“You’re frowning,”

A flush paints your cheeks, and you groan in frustration, head hitting the mattress as you stare up at the ceiling. You’re so fucking cute, he can hardly take it.

“I don’t know what - …like, what do I do?” You’re watching him, eyes wide and blown out, almost black. He can tell that you meant it when you said you wanted it, and he smiles softly at you, parting your legs with a palm on each thigh.

“Just lay back,” He says softly, “I’ll take care of you,”

The closer his face gets to your pussy, your face relaxes into a look of concentrated arousal. You’re watching his every movement, gasping quietly when he licks a trail up the wet patch on your panties. He keeps his eyes on you as he kisses you slowly, filthily through the material, taking it as slow as he can, his cock throbbing, angry and eager to be inside your tightness. He ignores it to the best of his ability, keeping his hips lifted off the bed - he doesn’t want to come too fast, but as soon as you moan, head thrown back, hands fisting his bedsheets, he slams his hips down into the softness of his bed. Desperate for friction, it’s near painful with how badly he needs to fuck, and he abandons all thought, pulling your panties to the side to suckle at your swollen clit.

“Oh my god, Zayne,” Your voice is reedy, whimpers breaking every word, and he groans into your pussy, hips punching into the bed.

Your thighs start shaking soon after, and you’re already close. He can feel the way you’re clenching when he dips his tongue inside you, relishing in the arch of your back, the way your hands fly up to grip your breasts. It’s such an erotic sight, Zayne can feel his cock twitching, he’s gonna come too soon, again, but he can’t help it. You turn him into this needy, helpless mess, and he’s coming with you within a few more seconds of your tight pussy squeezing his tongue, his body rocking into the bed, so hard he can hear it squeak a couple times along the carpet.

Next time, he thinks wildly, unhinged in his desire, he’s gonna eat your pussy with you on all fours, he’s gonna make you ride his face while he fucks his hand. He doesn’t care if you never touch his dick as long as he can spend the rest of his life with his face between your legs.

He pulls away from you after a few more licks, the stickiness of your arousal is a sweet syrup on his lips, and when he raises his body off the bed, he can only stare at you. Legs twitching, skin shined with sweat. He can feel his cock getting hard again, and he hasn’t even got his jeans off yet.

You’re opening your eyes then, a hazy gaze running from his flushed face to his panting chest, all the way down to the wet patch on the front of his jeans. You nibble at your lip at the sight, and - yeah, he’s hard again.

“Is it…,” You glance down at his crotch again, “Are we done now?”

He licks his lips, tasting you again, “Do you want us to be done?”

You’re shaking your head, sitting up on his bed. There’s a wet patch under your ass that he wants to lap at, and you wriggle away, further into the centre of the bed until you’re laying your head on his pillow. He lets himself think it now, pulls down the wall guarding him from the truth that he’s devastatingly in love with you. Seeing you laying on his bed in your underwear, fucked out, blushing and smiling as you wait for him to join you - it sends him into a tailspin.

A smarter man would realise he’s not good enough for you, that he doesn’t deserve something so heavenly. But Zayne isn’t very smart, it turns out, because he crawls onto the bed, caging you in with his arms and kissing you deeply. He lets you taste yourself, lets you taste the flavour of what he’s done to you, and you groan, tugging his black shirt out of his jeans.

He helps you as the two of you tackle his shirt, peeling it off of his shoulders, smiling against your lips when your hands immediately explore his skin, grabbing and digging your nails into his shoulder blades. He has to stand up to take off his jeans and his ruined underwear, his cock springing free, already hot and hard again. He watches as you assess him, your tongue wetting your lips has a bead of precum forming on the tip, even as his earlier orgasm already coats it.

You open your mouth as if to speak, but then you snap your lips shut. He can’t have that.

“What is it, ___? Tell me,”

“I want…” Your eyes fall to his dick again, “Can I taste you?”

He almost falls to the floor, all feeling gone in his legs thanks to the blood rushing directly to his cock. He wonders if you could make him come simply by speaking, by asking him questions in that innocently curious voice of yours.

It’s not a good idea, not with his track record with you, but he swallows hard, nodding and watching hungrily as you crawl across to him. He pauses you, desperate to see more, needing to see all of you, and unclips your bra, tossing it aside, forgotten. Your breasts sway before him, his hands reaching out with no hesitation, gripping them both as his cock bobs with another warning twitch. You watch it all with a heated look in your eye.

When you lean forward, letting your tongue flick out to taste the head, Zayne immediately buckles, pushing you back on the bed so you’re on your back. He climbs over you, a barely caged animal.

“You -” He groans when his cock brushes your underwear, “I cant - Maybe another time,”

“Did I do it wrong?” You frown.

He almost laughs, a pained wheezing sound bursting from his throat, “No, you’re - everything's perfect. You’re perfect- “ He’s babbling now, the desperation to be inside you taking over, as he rears up, tugging off your panties and dropping them at the bottom of the bed. A crazy parts of him wants to keep them as a memento of tonight.

He shakes above you, his arms trembling as his tip brushes your entrance, and he worries you might be nervous. He’s not small by any means; thick as well as a decent length, his cock isn’t gonna be easy for you to take for your first time, and so as a form of self-preservation and to help make sure you’re ready, he drops his head to take your soft nipple into his mouth, his fingers skimming your stomach to enter you in one thrust. You buck against him, whining, begging him to fuck you, and he growls, kissing up to your neck so he can suck a couple of marks into your skin.

“So fucking good for me- God, ____, you’re everything -”

“Zayne,” You tug on his hand, trying to pull his fingers free from inside you, “I need you. Please, please -”

He can’t resist you begging, he can’t help himself when you start mewling those words against his lips, your hands digging into his lower back. He positions himself at your wet heat, shuddering with each inch you accept him. You gasp when he thrusts a little too hard, but when he checks your face to make sure he didn’t hurt you, you’re watching him with a searingly needy expression. You want him, you tell him so with every clench of your walls around his cock, and so he lets his dick slide inside you all the way, his thighs already shaking.

He’s pathetic.

“Fuck, fuck - hgn - oh god, it’s so good, ___. So fucking good for me,” He begins a steady pace, slower than he needs, but it’s enough to have you arching into him, your pretty tits lifted to his waiting mouth, and he moans loudly, without abandon, as your hands reach up to flatten on the headboard. You’ve never done this, and yet he’s the one who feels like he’s never been fucked before. You’re rolling your hips, rocking up to take his cock, and he can feel his balls clenching with the need to come, “Tell me I can come - tell me - let me come, please, beautiful, I need to fuck my cum into this pussy,”

“Please,” You groan, “you can come. Please, I need it so bad -”

“Fuck,” He’s going to come, he’s reaching the point of no return and he’s barely been inside you ten seconds. He slides his hand between your bodies, rubbing at the hard little nub above where he’s sliding into you. You’re gripping him so tight he can barely speak. He’s dreamed of making you beg for his cock, of making you tell him how bad you need it, but in the end he’s the one begging you.

“Please, please, oh fuck, ___. I’m coming -” He grunts, “Say my name, fuck - hgn, please. Please say my name - I fucking love you. Say it for me -” His words break off into a moan as you come all over his cock, your body clenching, eyes rolling back. You’re chanting his name, calling it into the empty room, making his fucking life.

He follows you with several jagged, deep thrusts, fucking you up the bed until your head reaches the headboard. He has a few brain cells left to place his hand between you and the wooden surface, and then he allows himself a couple more rough rolls of his hips that have you shaking.

The silence afterwards is broken only by your breaths. Zayne’s head is on your chest, listening to the way your heart hammers beneath him. He can’t move, his legs have lost all feeling and he enjoys the way you run your fingers through his hair. He nuzzles into your sweaty skin and glances up at you. You’re smiling, glowing like you do in his dreams, and he almost wants to pinch himself.

When the lab report comes in, Zayne doesn’t speak immediately. He reads it twice. Then a third time. His jaw tightens. Severe anemia isn’t dramatic to him; it’s dangerous. Oxygen delivery. Cardiac strain. Fatigue masking bigger risks. He looks at you, not angry, not soft. This is no longer casual concern. This is protocol mode mixed with love.

He exhales slowly, then immediately goes to the kitchen. No pause. Just action.

Juicer comes out. Cutting board. Fresh fruits. Leafy greens. Beetroot stains his hands.

“we are not negotiating this,” he says quietly.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Zayne doesn’t ask what you're eating anymore. He inspects. He stands there, arms crossed, eyes scanning the plate like it’s a medical chart.

Oil?: Too much.

Colour??: Not enough iron-rich foods.

Portion???: Wrong.

He sighs slowly, like you have personally offended medicine.

“You know this doesn’t help your hemoglobin,” he says calmly.

You groaned. “I just wanted something easy.”

“And anemia wants you unconscious,” he replies.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

After the anemia diagnosis, Zayne personally orders everything. Blood panels. Cardiac monitoring. Nutrient levels. He cross-checks results at midnight like it’s leisure reading.

You groaned after another test.

“At this rate, you’ll drain whatever blood I have left.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I already calculated total volume loss. You’re safe.”

Then pauses.

“Annoyed, but safe.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Zayne doesn’t suggest dietary changes.

He reorganizes the kitchen.

Iron-rich foods appear. Vitamin C pairings. No tea near meals. No excuses. He cooks like he’s preparing post-op recovery meals. When you complain, he doesn’t argue.

“Eat,” he says simply. “Then complain.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You stand up quickly.

Zayne is already moving.

Hand on your arm. Firm. Controlled.

“No,” he says. “Sit back down. Count to ten. Breathe.”

“You don’t need to grab me every time!”

“And you don’t need to faint,” he replies. “Yet here we are.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Zayne hands you water like it’s law.

“Drink.”

“I just drank.”

“That was thirty minutes ago.”

You snaped, “I’m not a sponge!”

“And yet,” he says, “you’re still dehydrated.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You try to push through fatigue.

Zayne shuts your laptop.

Physically.

“We’re done.”

“I HAVE DEADLINES!”

“And you have anemia,” he replies. “Pick which kills you slower.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Lights out at the same time every night.

No scrolling. No excuses.

He takes your phone and places it face-down.

“You need rest for red cell production.”

You groaned into the pillow. “You’re ruining my life.”

“ No love, I’m extending it,” he replied as he kissed my head.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

He watches you swallow iron supplements.

Not because he doesn’t trust you.

Because he doesn’t trust absorption.

“Did you take it with tea?”

“No.”

“With calcium?”

“No.”

“Good,” he says. “I’m proud.”

“Don’t praise me like a dog.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Buldak ramen is forbidden.

Full ban. No negotiation.

You tried once.

Zayne appears like a final boss.

“Put it back.”

“It’s comfort food!”

“And anemia is not comfortable,” he answers calmly.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

His words are harsh.

His hands are gentle.

That contrast breaks you every time.

“Stop being mean,” you muttered

“Stop being anemic,” he replies softly.

Master List of Delusions

Finally!!!!!

Finished with exams

You arrived rather early to the hospital, hoping to talk with some of his colleagues that became your friends as well before the appointment. You even brought the staff snack bags as an appreciation, knowing that they were always on the clock. At the front entrance, you were met with Zayne’s coworker. “Dr. Greyson! How’s it going?” You greeted him.

“Hello! It’s been pretty busy, to be honest. More people out to enjoy the sun, more chances for accidents.” He sighed, basking in the weather causing him more work. “You have a 9am appointment with Dr. Zayne, right?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, “You both say that for every weather, it seems like just existing makes you guys busy here. And I’m surprised you keep up with his schedule as well.” You reached into your bag to pull out one of the snack bags you specifically made for your friends, “I brought you and the others a little treat! This one’s for you. I feel like you guys have dealt with me and the Hunters too much recently. I always see you guys here when I come in for an injury. Even past midnight!” You exclaimed, handing it to him.

He pushed his glasses up, looking at the present in your hand with slight shock. “Ah, you shouldn’t have!” He took the present and looked at it, “This is very nice of you, I’m sure the others will enjoy theirs as well. Don’t worry too much though, the both of us are working hard to take care of Linkon our own ways, but you’re in much more of a position to be thanked.” He spotted the gift card you added to the special bags and pointed at it.

Before he could deny it, “It’s for the cafe across the street! Trust me, getting those for you and Yvonne benefits me more, maybe. Their points system is crazy!” You giggled, pushing the present closer to him.

“Miss Hunter. Dr. Greyson.” You heard to the right of you. The deep, steady voice made your face heat up. You looked up at Dr. Zayne, the sun shining behind him . As if the heavens were taunting you with such a god. You brought your hand up to block the sun somehow and squinted in his direction. You were about to greet him until you noticed his attire.

He wasn’t in his usual doctor attire. He was wearing athletic wear that you were unfamiliar with. Ditching the long sleeved white top, he was now wearing a short-sleeved black compression shirt paired with ash gray workout sweatpants. His forehead and limbs were beaded with sweat. His veins were more prominent, perhaps due to his jog. His black earphones were on, but you saw him tap at them to mute whatever was playing. The sight was, in your words, delicious.

“Dr. Zayne! I was just about to head back in. How was your jog? You took it later than usual.” Greyson greeted him.

“It was good. I wanted to finish up paperwork beforehand. I’ll see you around then.” He responded curtly, nodding in his direction. Yet his eyes were on you.

“Thank you again, Miss Hunter. I’ll see you again next time. Hopefully for nothing crazy, though.” Greyson said, walking into the building.

You waved him off and then turned back to face Zayne. You reached over at him, playing with the hem of his shirt, humming a sign of approval before taking your hand back. “This looks good on you. Since when do you wear this style for your jog?” You asked.

He reached back out to play with the ribbon of your top, his cold fingers grazing your bare skin on your shoulder. “Must have been the same time you wore this style for a simple check-up.” He dropped his hand. “You’re here early. I wasn’t expecting you until 9. It’s still 8:30.” Zayne checked his phone.

You shrugged, moving your hair away from your face. “The weather’s pretty today. I wanted to take a nice walk over here, but overestimated when to leave. I had some presents for your hardworking staff, anyways.” You held up your bag. 

Zayne motioned for the two of you to start walking in, and you followed his suit. He just hummed his acknowledgement, standing side-by-side with you in front of the elevator. You pressed the ‘up’ button, twiddling with the handle of your bag. 

“Where’s mine?” Zayne asked, holding his hand out to you.

You smiled at his actions, holding in a bit of laughter. “Is Dr. Zayne jealous? You’ll get your present if you’re nice to me during our appointment.” 

“I’m always nice.” He defended, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“You didn’t even compliment my outfit, I wore this just for you.” You faced him, putting your arms out to display yourself. “I complimented your new outfit, there wasn’t even any gratitude. Now I have to base it on your attitude when you tell me my health plan later.” You smugly said as you dropped your arms and faced the elevator again. You peeked over to see his reaction and he took a bit, opening and closing his mouth looking for a response. It made the corner of your mouth twitch into a smile.

“You look good, as well. And thank you.” He cleared his throat. “For the compliment.”

There was then a loud ding, indicating the elevator’s arrival. The doors opened and multiple people exited. The two of you walked into the freshly empty elevator and waited for the doors to close. 

“For me?” Zayne asked, clicking on the correct floor.

“Huh?” You replied, turning towards him, the doors fully shuting.

He reached out and played with the ribbons of your top again. “This?” His eyes wouldn’t meet with yours and were glued to your shoulders, scanning your clavicle and your body as a whole. It was like you could see his resolve crumble on the spot.

Bingo.

You leaned towards him, your chest sticking out just a bit further than your face. “What if it was? Is that an issue, Dr. Zayne?” You made sure your words were dripped in honey, pulling out every flirtatious intonation and tricks. You even fluttered your eyelashes at him.

Zayne looked down at you, his breathing getting heavier. You would have assumed it was from the jog, but he was breathing perfectly fine just a few moments before. You saw his jaw tighten and temple pulse ever so slightly. And the arms at his sides were fully flexxed. He was tense. “Screw it.” His hands flung to the button panel and pulled the stop button, halting the elevator with a jolt. 

You would have reacted with a yelp, but you were interrupted with his cool hands cradling both sides of your face, pulling you into a kiss. Your eyes widened with slight surprise at the lunge but then fluttered closed. Dropping your bag onto the floor beside you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, one of your hands coming through the back of his head. Slightly sweaty, but you didn’t care at all. You got what you wanted.

One of his thumbs moved down to your chin, pulling it down, a motion to open your mouth and you happily complied. You parted your lips with a slight moan as you felt his tongue enter your mouth. It was a hungry kiss, but you were starving.  You tilted your head for a better angle, and kissed him deeper, moaning even louder. 

Zayne groaned, pulling away slightly. He dropped one hand and ripped his earphones out of his ears, dropping them haphazardly onto the ground. “Need to hear you properly…” He said breathlessly. And then he swooped back in, taking steps forward, pushing you back until your bare skin met with the metal walls of the elevator. His hands ended up at your waist, roaming up and down. His frigid pinky landed on the strip of exposed skin below your top, making you twitch and whine at his touch. You felt Zayne’s lips curved upwards, ever-so-slightly as he kissed you. The two of you stayed like that, kissing like the world didn’t exist. Your tongues tangled with each other, your teeth clashed each time the two of you switched angles, and both your hearts beating against each other. You couldn’t help the soft moans that kept spilling out of you as he was pressed up against you, exploring your mouth. When your hand gripped at the back of his hand, a soft whimper left his throat. The sound was soft enough to go by unnoticed, but you were hyper aware of everything that involved him. 

And then he pulled away, forcing your hands to lower and rest on his shoulders. His forehead rested on yours as the two of you attempted to breathe normally. “W-we should get going…Others might need to use this elevator…” He spoke just above a whisper.

You wanted another, just a few more minutes. And when you leaned in just from pure need, he peeled himself off of you, turning his head to pick up his belongings from the floor and pushing the stop button again. The elevator moved again. 

You stood there, astounded for just a second before smoothing out your top and adjusting your straps, which have fallen off your shoulder from the movements. You reached down and grabbed your bag again. Standing beside him, you waited to reach the floor.

In complete silence.

You looked at him with a sense of dread, wondering if he was regretting it. He looked back at you, his face unreadable as usual. He reached out with his thumb and wiped the corner of your mouth, “Lipstick.” He said.

You had no time to react as the doors suddenly opened.

“I need to change out of these clothes, they’ll call you into my office when I’m set up.” Zayne massaged his left hand, a move he did when he was uncomfortable. 

Oh.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” You said, composing yourself. The two of you exited the elevator and walked separate ways. Except you looked back at him, and he didn’t. It made you worry. You thought you finally broke down his wall of ice, but it was built right back up just as quick. You headed over to Yvonne’s statio, taking a deep breath to avoid any sign of discomfort. 

The two of you exchanged simple chats, giving her the intended gift along with the bag of smaller goodies for the rest of the staff on the floor. Her eyes showed slight concern, but you were glad that she didn’t push. And then 9 rolled around and she said that Zayne had paged for you to enter his office. 

The appointment went by smoothly as ever, but it was just like the first time you were in his office again. He was back in his white coat and glasses and gave no signs of being affected by what happened, so you didn’t ask about it either. Out of fear of being dismissed, you dismissed the whole situation yourself. The check-up felt like it lasted for too long. Too awkward. Too platonic.

Despite what you said earlier, you left the bakery treat that you brought for him on his desk before you left. You really hoped that he was just in professional mode and couldn’t act on anything. It would have been a better outcome than just him regretting it.

You left the hospital and sat at the bench beside the building. Your body felt heavy and your chest felt tight. You let out a loud sigh and looked up at the sky with your eyes closed, soaking up the sun. And then your phone buzzed.

You scrambled to grab it from a convenient pocket in your skirt. 

Zayne: Thank you for the macarons. Get home safe.

You saw the typing bubble pop up and then disappear. Once. Twice. And then it was gone. You waited a minute or two and then gave up. Now you debated starting from square one or just giving up.

-

Days passed. A week passed. 

The two of you exchanged small messages. Never surpassing three or four responses. He was the one who initiated each one, but he never talked about what happened in the elevator. It bothered you that he didn’t take responsibility, and you wanted to forget about it. Yet every time you touched yourself, you couldn’t even get the scene out of your head. The way he held your face and whimpered at your touch. You were fucked. And you didn’t even get fucked.

Work was going on fine with you, and you filled the empty nights going out with your friends Tara and Simone, who kept encouraging you to meet other people. Yet, when you danced with random men at the club, Zayne kept popping up in your mind. When they would lean into your ear to call you pretty, all you could think was what Zayne would do if he saw you entangled with another. But he wouldn’t be caught dead in a club like that. 

One night after dancing with another random man that wasn’t even close to resembling him, you walked over to the bar. “Two vodka shots!” You yelled at the bartender, sitting on one of the bar stools. 

“Miss Hunter!” You turned to find Greyson. 

“Hi! What are you doing here?” An anxious bubble grew in your chest. The two shots were put in front of you and you instantly downed one as you waited for his response. 

“We were celebrating the completion of one of our research projects at the hospital!” He looked around as if he was looking for someone. “He was just here…” He muttered. You just hoped that you were too tipsy and heard him wrong. “Anyways, are you here alone?”

You shook your head, “I’m here with my coworkers as well. They’re somewhere out on the floor. I should get back to them, though.” You held your other shot glass up at him as a cheer. “Congratulations!” And then you turned into the crowd. 

Despite spending your time at the club more often, you were still as lightweight as ever. Your two mixed drinks from earlier mixed with a straight liquor shot made you feel hot. The second shot was meant for the person you were dancing with, but the sudden thought of Zayne made you put it up to your lips. 

A large, cold hand wrapped around your hand that held the glass. “You’re drunk. What if someone were to take advantage of that?” The stern voice asked, making you lower the drink.

Zayne.

--

“I can take care of myself, Dr. Zayne.” You couldn’t tell if it was your tipsiness or your embarrassment heating your face. You wriggled your hand away from his grip, the vodka spilling a bit on your arm. You groaned from the spillage and licked your arm, you glared up at him since it was his fault but his eyes were fixated on your actions rather than you. The attention made you smirk slightly, as you saw the tips of his ears turn a pink shade. You took the shot in the end anyways, not wanting to waste anymore and then grabbed his hand once again for him to hold the now-empty glass. “Plea- hic! Please return to your colleagues , Dr. Zayne.” You managed to hold the same stoic tone like him to the best of your capabilities.

He let out a hiss of breath as you attempted to walk away, back onto the dance floor to look for your friends. “Please.” Zayne grabbed your wrist, pulling you to face him again. Despite the firm grip, it still felt like he was trying to be gentle. Truly, a surgeon’s touch. “How long have you known those…men?” He spoke through gritted teeth, leaning down towards you so you could hear him.

Your eyes widened as you realized what he saw. Your thoughts that you screamed into the void were answered. Despite wanting to feel embarrassed, you couldn’t help but feel proud. You also couldn’t help wanting to tease him further. “Is Linkon’s greatest surgeon jealous, righ- hic! Right now?” You tilted your head to the left, in an attempt to mock him, but the alcohol was slowly getting to you more and more. Your head felt heavier and you slightly stumbled. 

His face was still unreadable, but he was gripping onto your shot glass tightly and you noticed a frost slowly encapsulating it. “You’re drunk. It’s not safe, I’m taking you home.” He wrapped his arm around your waist, steering you back to the bar. You felt his fingertips graze against the skin exposed by your backless top, and it was almost as if he pulled his hand back like he just burned himself. Zayne’s hand rested on your clothed hip instead. 

You sat yourself atop the bar stool, pouting at him. “I don’t wanna go home with you…you told me not to go home with men when I’m out.” You pointed at him in an accusatory manner. The room slowly started spinning and the one Zayne in front of you turned into two and then three.

“I told you not to go home with random men, because I worry about you…” He softly said, placing the frozen glass onto the counter, keeping you upright on the stool. He pulled his phone out and typed quickly before shoving it back into his pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come on…” He held your hand and swung it over his shoulder, his fingers were cold, almost icy, slightly grounding you as the world continued to get whirl. His other arm went under your knees and then you were in the air, in his arms.

A slight yelp came out of you, although it came out as more of a hiccup. Your face burned, and this time you were sure it was because he was holding you up bridal style. You looked at him, studying his reactions and his jaw was fully clenched, his eyes glued forward. “M-my friends…” 

“Greyson will let them know you’re with me. As for those two men…I doubt they need to know, but I hope they see that you’re leaving with me.” The last part was almost drowned out by the music as he walked by a large speaker but you heard it. 

A lump in your throat formed, uncontrollably. The past few days of losing hope in ever increasing your relationship with Zayne came crashing down on you all at once. You rested your head against his shoulder and linked your arms together around his neck. The feeling of the chill night air tickled your skin as he exited the club, the air becoming clear. Tears were falling out of your eyes, despite wanting to control it. All you could think of was how confused you were. He finally kissed you, and then pretended nothing happened. And now he was at your side again like a knight in shining armor, saying things that don’t match with his actions. Every time you wanted to forget about him and move on, he was still everything you wanted. 

Zayne placed you into his car, the new car smell still fully present with a slight hint of jasmine. You held your head down, letting your hair shield your eyes from him. He shut the door of the car, leaving you in silence for a bit, the street noise of the night muffled. You looked up and saw the car freshener that you gave him still hanging on his rearview mirror. Another tear dropped and you sniffled. 

The driver’s side opened up and you dropped your head again as he slid into the seat, a sigh emitting from his lips as he closed his door. And then you felt a chill hand hold your chin, the tears falling onto it. “I know you’re crying…can you please tell me why?” He held you up to look at him, brushing your hair back for a clearer view. His previously blank face was now riddled with worry; his eyebrows were furrowed and his bottom lip twitched ever so slightly, flashing a small scowl. He took his thumb and wiped away tears, even if it was no help to the stream leaking out of your eyes.

“You kissed me…” You mumbled, your lip trembling. “You kissed me and then you acted like you didn’t, and that’s why I’m here.” You hiccuped. “And now you’re here, pretending like you care.” 

Zayne looked physically taken aback as the accusation left your mouth. “I assure you, there is no pretending happening. My care for you is genuine.” He stated. You couldn’t tell if the glance he took at your lips was just your imagination or the bad lighting. “As for the kiss, I apologize. I think I was afraid…but that’s no excuse. I really would rather have this conversation when you are sober, though.” He rubbed circles on your chin as he looked into your eyes. “Please believe me.”

You removed yourself from his hold and then looked away. You put your seatbelt on and slumped in your seat, resting your head on the door. “Just take me home, Zayne.” You mumbled.

There was a pause before he finally turned on the engine to his car, as if he wanted to say more. The drive to your place felt long and awkward. Your head felt heavy and you were getting sleepy, but you were more aware of things. As if the sudden confrontation sobered you up. There was no room to feel the usual haha-drunk, and instead the sleepy/sad-drunk took over. 

The car slowly pulled up to the front of your apartment and he put the car in park. Zayne unfastened his seatbelt, and you finally moved from your position to look at him. “I can get upstairs myself, thank you for the ride…” You unbuckled yourself but slightly struggled.

His hand covered yours, helping you with the button and he grabbed onto the belt to keep it from hitting you in any shape. “I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t see you enter your home.” He said, his eyes focused on your hands. “I’ll open the door for you, please wait a moment.” He opened his side and gracefully exited. 

You huffed at your lack of a fight, and then you got annoyed that there were butterflies in your stomach. You tried to convince yourself that you just wanted to throw up the vodka from earlier. Your door was then opened, the cold air kissing your skin. You ignored the hand he held out and instantly walked towards the gate into your complex. You heard the car door slam along with the beeping of it getting locked. Despite getting a headstart, your short steps were nothing compared to his long strides.

He held the gate open for you and you felt his arms hovering around you as you slightly stumbled. Your knees felt wobbly, but there were too many factors that it could have been from. You got to the front of the building and fumbled with your purse, trying to find the keycard. As you were about to huff in frustration, his hands brushed against yours to hold your bag, easily finding the card. Zayne has only ever been to your home a few times, and only once alone. Yet the way he moved felt so familiar. He easily scanned your way in and walked you to the elevator. The lights in the lobby were bright, making you squint and look down at your feet.

The scene felt familiar. You were side-by-side with Zayne again, waiting for the elevator. Where all the problems started. You just hoped it was the hospital that gave you bad luck. “Let’s just take the stairs…” You mumbled, positioning yourself to walk off.

He gently held your arm, “Don’t be rash. You’ll trip up the stairs and then I’ll have to take you to the hospital.”

“Sorry for taking up so much of your time then, Dr. Zayne.” You muttered through gritted teeth.

“That’s not…” He exclaimed firmly, but was interrupted by the ding of the elevator arriving. The two of you entered, the air thick and he pressed the button to your floor before you could, and it made you more annoyed. A second passed before he said more calmly. “I just don’t want to see you hurt, I truly do care about you. I would give up my time for you any day. I would much rather spend it as myself rather than as your doctor.” 

Your cheeks burned, even in your state, each word delivered into your head and hit you right in the heartstrings. He still really was the guy you were way too into. It still didn’t make sense as to why he acted that way a few days before. You looked beside you, chewing on your lip. Zayne was already looking at you, his normally icy eyes looked warm and pleading. “I don’t believe you.” You mumbled.

“I’ll prove it to you. When you’re sober…I’m new to this, but I want to prove myself.” His hand reached out to hold your head, but the ding of the elevator interrupted once again. His hovering hand flexed slightly and then returned to his side. “Ladies first.”

You turned away from him, hoping that your emotions weren’t being blasted on the microphone through the color on your cheeks and walked with quick small steps to your door. You let out a hushed breath to calm yourself before typing in the code to your place. It took a bit of tries before you finally inputted it correctly, not realizing how shaky your hands were. You opened it slightly to keep it from locking again and then turned towards him, his body closer to yours then you thought. 

His hand leaned up, resting on your front doorway, leaning just a bit towards you as if he was tired, looking down at you.

It made you feel smaller, but the sight was insane. You’ve been avoiding eye contact all night and didn’t even see how he looked. His black button up was slightly undone by the collar and so was the blue tie you had gifted him for his birthday. The normally prim and proper Zayne looked worn out, but something about the sight made you chew on your lip more. And you wanted to see him even more undone.

His hand came up to your chin, a soft tap with his thumb indicated for you to let go of your lip. You didn’t miss the slight movement of his finger brushing against your lower lip, and it sent a chill down your spine. Zayne tilted you up ever so slightly, his eyes boring into you. “If I must say something now…then I…” His hand moved down to hold your neck, his thumb caressing the line of your jaw. “I’m glad I kissed you. I’m sorry for making you doubt that. I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“Then kiss me again.” You softly said, your hand meeting his. Your fingers curled around his palm.

“I want to, please trust me. I just want you to enjoy it when I’m sure you will remember.” His words differened from his slowly leaning in.

You wanted to meet him and slowly tiptoed into his touch until his phone rang.

“Fuck…”  He cursed under his breath while still looking at your lips.

Zayne cursing was always a rare sight, and it always made the heat pool in your lower stomach. Even then, you knew duty was calling him. Despite you wanting him on many levels, something that you had always respected was his passion for his work. It matched yours as a Hunter, and that’s why you believed the two of you would be perfect for each other. “You should take that, I’m sure Akso has greater issues than mine.” Your thumb circled around his circles as you felt his hand flex against you. “We can talk when we’re both free…you still owe that proper explanation, Zayne.”

“I’m sorry…Please rest well.” He looked at you and still held your face as if you’d melt through his fingers like freshly fallen snow. He leaned down and your eyes flickered shut, just to feel his lips press against your forehead. “I promise, I’ll fix this.” He mumbled against you before pulling away and dropping his hand. “I’ll see you soon, Miss Hunter. Say good night to me.”

“Good night…” You said before he turned to answer the call, walking away. You watched him leave until the elevator doors closed.

You were fucked, and you fell even deeper.

–

There was a delivery in the morning of hangover medicine with a note that read: 

I’ll explain myself in person, soon. Please refrain from drinking. -Z

The anger and upset feeling inside you was slowly dissipating as the hope of becoming his was reignited. You were truly hoping to clear everything up soon.

Yet, it was as if there was god in the world wishing the worst upon the two of you.

Your work was suddenly taking over as there were multiple fluctuations throughout the city. There were multiple wanderer attacks the first night, and the association had Hunters spread thin to keep watch of any more rifts. It meant being on the clock almost 24/7. It also meant that Akso was also fully booked, and Zayne was working the same hours. The two of you were fully swamped.

You wanted to be upset about it, but you were fully focused on your work. You assumed that he was the same way. You wanted to be able to protect people with your unique evol, and it had always been your dream to be a Hunter. You realized that you never asked Zayne why he chose to be a doctor and made a mental note for next time. You just wished that next time would come sooner.

You wanted to kick yourself. Once that wish was spoken in your mind, your friend Tara was caught off-guard by a wanderer and was severely injured. You rushed her to the hospital and you cursed yourself, screaming in your mind that this was what you meant. Tara kept telling you to go back to your post, but the blood coming out of her felt too severe to leave her alone. You waited outside her room as they stitched her up and replenished what she lost, pacing the hallway. You nibbled on your bottom lip and then suddenly your wrist was grabbed gently with a familiar touch and you were spun around.

“You…” Zayne huffed, as if he just ran. His hand came up to brush your head, his eyes scanning over you. “Yvonne said you were here and with all the issues going around, I had thought…” His eyebrows were knitted together, still looking for anything wrong.

There was blood on your side, that you were sure was Tara’s and his eyes landed on it. “I-it’s not mine…it’s my partner’s. Uh, Tara. They said she’s fine, but I’m just waiting.” You were instantly pulled into his chest, his arms wrapping around your shoulders while his hand was on your head, pushing you closer into him. You could hear his heartbeat, slightly erratic. 

“I thought something had happened to you…It’s been so busy and I know you were out there. It killed me everytime I saw someone in a Hunter’s uniform come in. I was always scared it would be you…” His voice was slightly shaky, and his breathing was slowly evening out as you wrapped your arms around him to reciprocate. His words matched with the constant check-in texts you had received from him throughout the days, as if he was doing a wellness check. 

You breathed in his scent on his chest, finding comfort in the sterile alcohol with a tinge of jasmine. It felt familiar, grounding you from your hectic week. “I’m okay…”

Zayne pulled back and held your shoulders, doing another once over. He picked up your hands and saw it scraped up. “Tsk…wait here, I’ll be right back.” And then he was off again. His strides were precise and with intent.

You looked at your own hands, just realizing their condition. The palms and fingers scraped from the rubble that you had to move to get to Tara. You hadn’t even felt anything until you saw it, although it looked like it hurt more than it actually did. After a few minutes, Zayne came back with what looked like a white cloth under his arm. 

He took your wrist and pulled you into a room that read storage. It was dark inside, save for the fluorescent lights that were leaking in through the blinds of a window to the hallway. There were metal racks filled with what looked like bedpans, blankets, and stuff that you would find in a medkit. There were some hospital beds lined up on the wall, you assumed they were extras or backups. He locked the door behind him as he guided you further into the room and handed you a shirt. “It might be too big on you, but you shouldn’t have someone else’s blood on you for this long. The shirt’s mine and these are hospital pants. I doubt you wanted to look like a full patient, but none of my pants would fit you.” He looked around the room to find the wet towels to wipe yourself down. “This is a room for surplus items, so there won’t be anyone bothering us. You can change behind the rack. I’ll face the wall, so don’t be worried.” He put everything into your arms and then turned you around to push you towards the other side of the room.

You walked behind the furthest rack in the room that was packed with packaged blankets and other random hospital items. You placed the clothes on a random bed and looked at what had brought you. One of his white button ups, yet the fabric felt softer than his normal ones. It was most definitely too big. And the hospital pants were light blue with a long string to tie it up. You peeled off your top, the stained cloth felt stiff and you didn’t realize how contricting your uniform was until it was off. You then slipped off your shoes and then the tight pants, feeling exposed as you stood in the dim room in only your underwear. You peeked over the rack to look at Zayne and found him still facing the other wall. It took a few towellettes to fully clean yourself up. You knew you needed a good shower but just doing that made you feel better. The fresh clothes put you at ease as well. The stress from the past few days slowly melted away knowing that your friend was safe and you were with the person you’ve been wanting to see.

“I’m done.” You said, walking back to the middle of the room. 

“Put your clothes into this bag, I’ll have it cleaned later.” He held a canvas bag open towards you as he turned to face you.

You shoved everything in and shook your head. “No worries, I can do it when I get back home.” You took the bag and set it on the bed beside the two of you. You looked up at him to still see that he had worry all over his face. As you inspected him, you found frost climbing his neck. “Are you…” Your fingers touched it lightly, but he grabbed your wrist.

“I’m fine. It just happens sometimes, do not worry about me.” He readjust his grip on you and then brought your fingers to his lips, still looking down at you. “I am the one who should be worried about you. And I am.” A soft kiss was placed on your knuckles. “I’ve been wanting to see you all week. I was just thinking about making a wish in the hospital fountain downstairs, and then Yvonne told me you were here. It’s 2am and my mind just went to the worst and I instantly scoured the building for you.”

You opened your palm and held his cheek, his hand holding it close to him as he nuzzled into your touch. “I’m here now and I’m fine, Zayne.” You laughed softly, “Why are you so worked up…?”

“I don’t want the person I like to get hurt. I just need to know it isn’t my imagination playing tricks on me.” And then his lips crashed into yours. The initial impact was rough, but his touch was soft and his lips moved against you slowly. As if the thought of being too rough would make you disappear. His hands moved to your neck, cradling your head to pull you close to him. The kiss was intoxicating, like a breath of fresh air after all the smoke and rubble outside. He pulled away, making you whimper softly from the loss. “It’s driving me crazy seeing you in my shirt…” You thought he would go in for another kiss, but his eyes turned serious. “I just wanted to tell you that I am truly sorry for how I made you feel the first time. I was afraid. I am afraid, actually. I’ve never felt this way before, and I’m not experienced at all. I need you, I have never denied that. I really do like you, I was just worried that you only saw me as someone from a brief period in your childhood, and I couldn’t risk our dynamics. Yet, I see that I was wrong. And I plan to take the rest of my life to prove it to you and show you how much I mean it.” 

He looked into your eyes with so much sincerity that all you could do was nod, hoping it let the message through enough. He walked towards you, forcing the back of your legs to hit the spare hospital bed. You climbed up with ease as his hands dropped to your thighs, helping lift you to sit. 

The back of his right hand went in between your legs, spreading them so he could settle in between, and then his lips were back onto yours. You moaned as you felt him press against the heat that was pulsing in between your legs. When your mouth opened, his tongue flicked in, exploring you like he was trying to remember every crease and crevice. His glasses began to slip and your hand reached up, attempting to take it off. He pulled back just to rip them off his face, as if they were annoying him, and then he grabbed your face into a kiss again. 

Your hands rested on his neck, the frost growing but everything else felt heated. You wanted to worry, but the task at hand was making your brain too foggy with desire. You trailed your touch down his chest, chiseled and hard. His breathing was more erratic as he deepend the kiss. And then down to his very evident bulge that was pressing against you. 

Your hands on him made him pull away and rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck..I’ve always thought about us like this. I really wanted to save it, though.” He peppered kisses on your jaw. “I just can’t…” He kissed your neck, making you stretch it outwards, inviting him more. “I can’t hold myself back.”

“Then- ngh!” You moaned as he sucked on the soft skin under your ear. “Don’t hold back, Zayne. Please.” You pleaded, palming his cock through his pants. You felt it twitch underneath you as you spoke, and he rolled his hips into your hand. 

While you felt him leave marks onto your skin, he pulled his hips back and moved your hands. His fingers slipped underneath the loose waistband of your pants and pulled it down, along with your underwear. He then rested his forehead against yours again, looking right into your eyes; your eyes that were filled with want as you were bare from the waist down, opening your legs even further. His fingers ran down your slit, slipping easily in between your folds, and he groaned loudly. “You’re already so wet.” His digits felt cool and it was in complete contrast to how you felt. 

Your hands snapped up to his shoulders, gripping onto them as you moaned, feeling the way his fingers moved against your clit. “All for you, I’ve been thinking about this too. For so long- ungh.” You hissed as one finger teased at your entrance. “W-would touch myself, wishing it was you…fuck, please put it in.” One of your hands grabbed his wrist, pushing his finger inside of your. The long slender finger reached what you never could and it made you arch your back into him with a moan, your head falling onto his shoulder.

“It’s so tight, down here. I can’t even imagine how you’d feel around my cock…” He said just above a whisper by your ear. He moaned as he inserted another finger, pushing his digits in and out. The loud wet noises were echoing in the room, but the thought of anyone catching you two didn’t even cross your mind. His free hand lifted your other leg onto his hip, caressing up your thigh softly. “Can you cum on my fingers like this?” His pace quickened and the coil in your stomach was about to give, you nodded against him. “Let it out, be a good girl.” His voice deepened to a near growl and the words along with the vibration of his voice made you gush around his fingers. “I need to feel you now…” He mumbled as he finger-fucked you through your orgasm. He pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock, the waistband of his scrubs under his balls.

“God, you’re big.” You breathlessly said as you looked at it, twitching from your high. You hand reached out to touch the leaking tip and he hissed, grabbing your hand. His hands were wet from you and it made you slightly embarrassed.

“D-don’t…I’m afraid I’ll come too quickly if you touch me, and I really want to feel you all around me.” He let go of you and he held his cock at your entrance. “May I…? We don’t have a condom, but I’m the one who manages your prescription, so…” He asked, nuzzling your face up so you could look at him.

 You honestly forgot about protection, you were too trusting of him and you didn’t want any barrier. He was also right about you being on birth control so you nodded. You also wanted to drop back down to his shoulder but the hand on your thigh came up to hold your chin. 

“Look at me… I want to see your face when I put it in.” He pressed another kiss to your lips before pulling back to look down and press into you.

Just the tip of his cock made it inside and you already felt full, the stretch making you furrow your brows and moan. You held eye contact with him as best as you could. You noticed that every time you shut them, he would stop moving. Inch-by-inch, he moved forward. Soft praises left his lips and his other hand was on your lower back, rubbing circles. And then he was fully bottomed out. 

“You feel so good…you’re taking me so well. I should’ve said something earlier, could’ve had you like this earlier…I’m sorry.” He blabbered, staying still inside of you. He unbuttoned the shirt on you slightly, enough to slip it off your shoulder and he placed kisses on it. 

You shook your head, “M-me too- ngh…wish I told you first.” Your grip on his shoulders tightened, your hips begging to roll against him. “You can move now, please. Want you to fuck me, Zayne.”

His lips were still on your skin and he pulled back just halfway before rolling back into you. A moan emitted from the both of you. His thrusts were long and slow and as good as it felt, you wanted more.

“Zayne. Ha- ahh…Harder, please. Faster.” You moaned.

His hands moved down to your hips, a tight grip. He lifted his face to look at you, “As you wish…” Zayne swooped in for another kiss, messy this time. 

You felt him pull out further, leaving his tip in before slamming into you. The sudden change made you hitch your breath in his mouth, a loud moan leaving you, which he basically swallowed. His pace quickened, the thrusts slamming into you harder. The room filled with the sounds of your hips slapping against each other, the wetness of you around him, and the moans and groans from the two of you. He was kissing your face all around, latching onto your hips when he could. His name tumbled out of you like a mantra.

“Fuck- ngh. Just like that. Keep saying my name.” He groaned against you. “Cum on my cock while you scream my name…” His thrusts got sloppier,  yet he was still drilling into your sensitive spots.

His name was the only thing you could think of, getting louder as you got closer to your climax. And then you came, your vision turned white and your hands were gripping onto his white coat. 

“God, it feels so- fuck…it feels so good. I’m…” He muttered, continuing to thrust into you, riding your orgasm out and chasing his own. And then you felt him slow down, his cum spurting inside. It made you feel even fuller and warmer, his thrusts then reaching a halt.

The two of you held each other, trying to breathe normally again. His hands left your hips and rubbed your back, his cock softening inside of you, but neither of you wanted to pull it out. You looked up at him, his face fucked out but blissful. “I really like you.”

 You're surprised to find him in the kitchen and not his office. He's already in his pyjamas, sat at the kitchen island with a mug of tea, flipping aimlessly through a book. Probably some kind of medical text.

 "Zayne?" His eyes meet yours and you see a flicker of shame in them at being caught.

 "Something wrong?" His voice is slightly hoarse. He sounds tired.

 "Yes." You put on your cutest pout. He may be one of the smartest men in the world, but you knew how to play him like a fiddle when you really needed to. You only leave him hanging for a second, feeling bad at the slight panic you see take hold of him. "I'm missing a certain snowman. The bed is far too cold without him."

 His shaky sigh of relief doesn't escape your notice. "You'd think having a snowman in your bed would only exacerbate the problem." He teases you with ease, because that's what he always does, but you can sense there's something else lurking under the surface.

 "Some may think so." You walk over to him and lean your head against his shoulder. "But this snowman is very special."

 "How so?"

 "He's the only snowman in the whole world that can be warm and cold at the same time." His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly.

 "I'm sorry, love. Why don't you take a heat pack with you and go back to bed? You're tired. I'll be there in a bit."

 "That's what you said three hours ago." You clasp his hand in yours. It's cold, but not uncomfortable. "I won't be able to sleep until you're beside me."

 He pushes his mug away from him with a resigned sigh. It takes him a minute to speak, and you hold his hand patiently.

 "I... lost control. Again." You stroke the back of his hand with your thumb. No wonder his hands were cold.

 "Nightmare?" He nods, not meeting your gaze.

 "I didn't want to wake you, so I came out here."

 You let go of his hand and bring your palm to his cheek. You just want him to look at you.

 "I want you to wake me, Zayne." His eyes are tired, but they finally meet yours.

 "You need your rest," he insists. You sigh. Your big, impossible snowman. Always taking care of everyone but himself.

 "So do you." He's about to argue but you don't give him the chance. "You deserve a restful night's sleep, baby." He softens at your use of the pet name you know he secretly loves. You can feel the walls coming down. "Besides, I can't sleep properly without you, anyway. You can wake me up whenever you need if it means you don't leave me all on my lonesome."

 "I just don't want you to get hurt because of me." Just that one little sentence almost rips your heart from your chest.

 "I know, darling. I know it scares you." You run your hands through his hair, trying to soothe him. "But I trust you, more than anyone else in the whole world. And I can't bear to see you in pain. Please, let me help. I want to help you."

 He reaches for your waist, pulling you between his legs and into his embrace. You stroke his back. He doesn't cry, he very rarely ever does. He just takes deep breaths into your shoulder.

 "Okay." His voice is barely a whisper. "I'll try." You can't help but hold him a bit tighter.

— Ты только поранишь себя, сопротивляясь, чтобы сохранить контроль. Твои руки уверенно сжимают шприц с оранжевой жидкостью. Словно раскалённая лава, густой наркотик переливается за стеклом. Ты никогда не чувствовала себя такой живой, как сейчас. Возможно, вколоть подобное «Хищнику» было глупой затеей, если не было расчета пострадать или умереть, но почему-то ты была уверена, что справишься. Ведь единственным желанием парня была ты.

— «Усилитель безумия?» Ты собираешься использовать его на мне? — Он скалится, пытаясь вырвать голову из твоих пальцев. Его голос непривычно хрипит и дрожит.

— Да. Как надзиратель, я должна знать, как подобное влияет на «Хищников». Лёгким и быстрым движением ты вводишь иглу в нежную кожу на шее мужчины. Пламенная жидкость быстро растворяется в крови, пуская по венам адреналин, а ты отточенным движением убираешь руку. Зейн задыхается и стонет от боли, ведь он ещё ни разу не терял контроль над собой.

— Прекрати себя сдерживать. Ты должен столкнуться с настоящим собой. Брюнет раздражённо выдыхает, сопротивляясь. Его спина выгибается, и ремень на груди лопается от натяжения и резкости. Настолько сильно он дёргается. Его сущность «монстра», коими считали обычные люди хищников, вырвалась наружу. Повезло, что парень остаётся прикованным к стулу.

Ты обходишь вокруг, изучая тело, а после садишься на колени, уверенная, что всё в порядке, в то время как «хищник» удивлённо вздыхает.

— Не волнуйся, я смогу позаботиться о тебе, — слова не успевают слететь с губ, как наглая ухмылка осаждает тебя. Этот парень совсем не похож на знакомого тебе Зейна. Разгоряченный, наглый и дерзкий. Или, может, ты просто не была знакома с этой его стороной?

— Ты хочешь, чтобы я подчинился… — резкий рывок, и чужие губы накрывают твои в голодном поцелуе. Это даже не страсть, это подобно чему-то первобытному, — но позволь мне сначала взять то, что я желаю больше всего. Зейн удерживает одной рукой тебя за голову, пока целует. Мокро и голодно, словно не может насытиться. Отрывается с выдохом. Не желает давать передышки, но твоя работа, если можно было это так назвать, еще не закончена.

— Где твой активатор? Или, правильнее сказать, деактиватор? — ты забавно хмуришься, активируя в своем снаряжении «поиск».

— Почему бы тебе… не потрогать меня и не найти самой? — шёпот оставляет совсем мало для полета фантазии, но всё же ты обязана проверить всё — по инструкции.

Твоя рука скользит по обнажённой груди, задевает холодные цепи, лишь усиливая ощущения. Ты пытаешься найти то, что тебе нужно. Его грудь вздымается и опускается от тяжёлого дыхания. Почти задыхается от твоих прикосновений. Это совсем не похоже на обыск, который ты предполагала. Ты осматриваешь и ощупываешь всё в пределах приличия, пока догадка не мелькает в голове — пах. Ты с недоверием отрываешь ладонь.

— И что дальше? — шепчет пленник. Проводит большим пальцем по твоей щеке, цепляя нижнюю губу и слегка оттягивая ее вниз.

Без лишних слов, кончики твоих пальцев очерчивают сосок и спускаются вниз к краю джинсов.

Он уже был твёрд.

— Не останавливайся, — эта лукавая усмешка, растянутая на аккуратных губах и лисий взгляд серых глаз заставляют кровь разогнаться по телу. Ты заводилась с каждой секундой, наслаждаясь тихими вздохами и стонами. Кажется, пытка пройдет немного в ином формате.

Подцепляешь пальцем ремень на его горле и тянешь на себя, но Зейн резко отпрянул назад, отворачивая голову на секунду.

— Впечатляет, — и вновь его довольная усмешка, которую хочется стереть.

Ты не успеваешь среагировать, ведь все происходит за считанные секунды, и лязг цепей оповещает о том, что пути назад нет.

Парень резко притягивает тебя к себе за талию, переворачиваясь и роняя вас обоих на пол. Хищник нависает над тобой, едва ли не касаясь своими губами твоих. Сердце бешено билось в груди, разгоняя адреналин по венам от происходящего только больше. Больше. Ты тоже хотела его всего.

— Сейчас у нас остается только одна вещь, которую нужно сделать, — От этих слов ком подступает к горлу.

Активатор находится здесь, — твоё колено достигает его паха, вначале мягко надавливая. Затем ты усиливаешь интенсивность и давление, заставляя Зейна почти болезненно сморщится. Терпение монстра улетучивалось с каждой секундой драгоценно утекающего времени.

Ты как будто находилась в другом мире и измерении, позволяя новым эмоциям унести тебя далеко-далеко, пусть и на короткое время.

Но у тебя есть выбор: ты можешь остаться с ним в этой клетке или уйти и больше никогда его не увидеть.

Парень издаёт утробный рык, который возвращает тебя к реальности, и оставляет пару лёгких укусов на шее, которые ты терпеливо переносишь. Он потирается о твое бедро твёрдым членом, пока крепкие руки задирают кожаную юбку. Пытают здесь тебя, а не его. Однозначно — жертвой стала ты.

Ваши губы встречаются в терзающем поцелуе; в нём нет и капли нежности. Хищник жаждет твоей крови, а ты позволяешь ему это, отвечая на его голод с преумножающей страстью. Это притяжение и сила, ввергающее суждение трезвое, что ни на есть, в чёрную тьму безрассудства.

Твоя чёрная форма трещит и разрывается, оголяя нежную молочную кожу.

Зейн отрывается, скользя рукой по внутренней части бедер, но его животную сторону не особо волнует насколько тебе комфортно. Впрочем, ты в полном порядке: это становится ясно по тому, как длинные пальцы собирают и размазывают смазку между твоих половых губ.

— Как же ты намокла. Будешь так хорошо принимать меня, — хриплый шёпот над ухом пропускает мурашки по твоей спине, а длинные чёрные волосы щекочут шею и щеки. Ты выгибаешься в спине и непроизвольно шире разводишь ноги, давая возможность монстру устроиться удобнее.

Внутри всё горит, и ты жмуришься, желая поскорее убрать ощущение пустоты внизу.

— Зейн, пожалуйста, — это похоже на мольбу, но Хищнику в таком состоянии повторять дважды не нужно. Его слух обострён, а заставлять ждать вас двоих он не желает. Ведь ты — способ его излечения, единственное подходящее лекарство.

Легкий скрип и вздох облегчения срываются с губ парня, когда он стягивает штаны. Член болезненно покраснел, а на головке образовалась капля предэякулята. Он дразняще касается твоего входа, который истекает смазкой, и скользит внутрь легко, слегка приоткрывая тебя. Острые ногти впиваются в его плечи, притягивая ближе. Ты сгорала: он подводил тебя к грани, но погибать ты желала только вместе с ним.

Плавный толчок заполняет тебя, выбивая все мысли из головы, и вы оба замираете. Зейн даёт время привыкнуть, а ты немного ёрзаешь, ища нужный угол. Стон срывается с губ прежде чем ты успеваешь понять, насколько он глубоко, насколько вы единое целое. Ухмылка расцветает на губах «монстра», которую ты упускаешь из вида. Зейн толкается бёдрами, с силой прижимая тебя к себе.

— Раз ты решила остаться в клетке, ты не сможешь уйти когда тебе вздумается.