#zayne l&ds

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

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

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

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

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

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

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

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

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

The hospital director's son, no less.

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zayne—!”

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

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

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

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

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded.

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

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

“Spread your legs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thrust. So full, you are.

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

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

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

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

“But it’s true though?”

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

“ugh. zayne! you’re a heart doctor, not a hip doctor or whatever! i’m fine,” you snap instead, cheeks heating at his tone.

he tilts his head, that small, knowing smile tugging at his lips like he understands exactly why you’re flustered.

“right,” he says, soft and teasing. “because i definitely need to be a hip doctor to know that twisting your spine every night is a bad idea.”

before you can protest again, he shifts closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. the mattress dips under his weight. “tell you what,” he murmurs. “we’ll compromise.”

you watch interested as he eases himself down beside you. one arm slips around your waist. “you want comfy? we’ll do comfy without ruining your back.”

he gently guides your bent leg, lifting it just enough to rest it over his waist instead of having it twisted outward. his movements are unhurried, practiced, like he's done this a hundred times already.

“see? same idea. less strain.”

you gulp.

he was right. of course he was.

the subtle shift in your expression and the slight tension melting away from your frame, makes his smirk grow into a proper smile.

his hand is still on your leg, fingers tracing slow, absent paths along the underside of your thigh. the motion is soothing, almost absent minded.

“told you,” he murmurs. “you have to listen to me more, sweetie.”

you give in begrudgingly, “okay doctor zayne...”

he chuckles, low and warm, tugging you just a little closer.

“that’s better,” he teases, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“only took one lecture this time.”

you huff, but don't pull away. he knows it means you’re giving in.

he grins, lips grazing the top of your shoulder, as he adjusts your leg slightly, shifting it so it rests more comfortably over him. his other hand finds the small of your back, fingers pressing gently into the tenser spots.

“see?” he hums softly, massaging the sore spots carefully. “much better.”

it’s easy to sink into the touch, his movements are familiar, his hands so warm that you close your eyes, a small noise escaping you.

“mmh... i won’t lay like that ever again if we can do this every night,” you say breathily.

the gentle kneading of his fingers on your back pauses just long enough for him to respond.

“oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. “i was planning on doing this anyway.”

he punctuates the remark by pressing firmer, his hand running along your spine, finding and relieving the most stubborn knots.

“that means we—ah—both need to get home early from work from now on.”

“mmm,” he hums in agreement, working his way down your back to the small of it. “which means,” he continues, voice low and teasing, “you might want to be a little less stubborn at the office.” he finds a particularly tense muscle and rubs it gently, drawing a small sign from you. “you know you can't keep working till midnight every day.”

you gasp dramatically, “says you, doctor zayne!”

he grins, unbothered, fingertips tracing lazy circles.

“exactly,” he says, more smug than he should be. “this doctor prescribes both of us earlier bedtimes.” leans down, lips brushing your shoulder again. “with benefits.”

“oh...” you breathe out against his shoulder. “and what do these benefits include other than laying like this and a massage?”

he chuckles again. the sound rumbles through his chest, sending tremors through you.

“you want a more benefits?” he murmurs, lips tracing along your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

his thumb slips under the hem of your top, tracing a slow, languid line against your bare skin.

you sigh shakily.

“stop teasing, husband.”

his hands continue moving slow, as if to spite your demand.

“oh sweetheart…” he hums, his touch trailing across your thigh now. his fingers dip lower, teasing the edge of your sleep shorts. “do you think i could ever resist teasing my stubborn little wife?”

you try not to let the words get a rise out of you because you want him.

and you want him now.

“is this position still good for my hip alignment?” you smile coyly.

his gaze darkens.

“oh hah. i’ll show you a position good for your hips.” your breath hitches as he shifts, above you, hooking both your legs around his waist. “this?” he murmurs, voice dropping low and rough. “spine and hips aligned and stable... very good for your body.”

and then he crashes his lips onto yours.

it’s hard and urgent, full of weeks of suppressed desire—the two of you hadn't been able to make love for weeks, after all. too tired after getting home from work, schedules unaligned.

you feel his grip tighten on your thighs as he drags you against him, his touch almost desperate. he kisses you like he needs to touch every part of you, to consume you completely.

your hands find their way into his hair, pulling just enough to earn a low growl from deep in his throat. “zayne-” you gasp out, breath mingling with his. “please.”

he groans, giving in completely—mouth trailing down your neck, hands sliding under your top to peel it off.

“god, i’ve missed this,” he mutters between kisses, skin now flush with heat.

he leans back just enough to pull his own shirt over his head, and when he lowers himself back over you, the warmth of his bare chest sealing any space between you.

“tell me what you want,” he whispers against your lips.

you groan, throwing your head back in frustration, gripping at his muscled back. “don't make be beg.”

you attempt to grind against his bulge, and he hisses.

he rolls his hips against you but he still wants to hear you say it—to admit how badly you've been craving this as much as he has.

his lips brush the sensitive skin below your ear, voice low and ragged.

“why not?” he teases. “you know how much i love it when you beg.”

“fine...” you whine, “please- please just fuck me—”

he grunts, the sound igniting a fire inside you. he leans forward, lips brushing your earlobe, his free hand drifting along your waist.

“there you go. that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

and then he's peeling off your sleep shorts.

the sound of the material hitting the floor seems far too loud in the quiet of the room, but it's a distant thought as he kisses his way down your body, taking his sweet, sweet time.

“missed this so much.” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin, fingers skimming across the sensitive flesh of your stomach.

he hooks your knees over his shoulders, lips curving up in a smile as he looks up at you. “missed you so much.”

“ngh—zayne...”

you watch with half lidded eyes as he presses a kiss to your soaked panties, making you jolt.

he grins up at you, enjoying the sight of you trembling.

“hmm… this position is even better for you.”

you can only moan softly.

“so beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes dark with desire. “all mine.” he slowly drags the fabric down your legs, watching your expressions, loving the way you squirm in anticipation. “don't worry,” he drawls, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your inner thighs. “i’ll take care of you first.”

a soft hum vibrates through you as he finally, finally tastes you. he goes slowly, as he tongues you like he’s savoring every second.

“zayne!” you cry out, back arching off the bed.

he doesn’t stop, doesn’t speed up. his tongue traces slow circles onto your throbbing clit, one hand pinning your hip down to keep you from bucking too much.

“shh,” he murmurs against your skin, voice thick, “let me love you properly.”

you want to respond that he always loves you properly anyway, but the retort dies when his tongue laps at you with maddening patience, each stroke drawing out a whimper.

“so sweet,” he breathes between kisses along your slick heat. “always so ready for me.” one hand slips up to pinch a nipple through your bra, making you gasp. “tell me how close you are already.”

“ahhn! so— so close! fuck-”

his eyes gleam with satisfaction. he loves getting you flustered, loves seeing you lose yourself like this.

he doesn’t say anything now, just focuses on you, making you come undone. his lips tease, tongue flicking over your sensitive nub before gently nipping it.

“want you to come for me, sweetheart.” he murmurs, his nose brushing against your clit as he laps at your entrance.

you can sense the urgency in his voice. he wants to please you, wants you to feel good. he wants it. needs it.

his tongue slides lower, swirling at your entrance before circling back to your clit—finally faster now.

“come for me,” he growls. “i wanna taste it.”

and when you do, it’s with a cry of his name and trembling legs he holds tight in his grasp.

he takes his time licking and kissing you through your orgasm, his movements gentling as he helps you ride it out.

only when you’re boneless and trembling does he pull back, lips glistening with you, a satisfied smile on his face.

“you okay?” he murmurs, fingers tracing along your flushed cheeks.

“mhm...” you nod vigorously, already aching for him all over again. “fuck me now, please...”

he chuckles.

the way you're looking at him—dazed, wanting, and needy—sends a pulse straight to his already hard cock.

“i believe the correct expression is make love, darling.”

you bite your lip and he licks his.

he leans over you, pressing a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him.

“you really can't wait, can you?” he murmurs against your mouth, pushing his bottoms down and already guiding himself to your slick entrance.

one slow thrust and he’s inside. deep, hot, and perfect.

you gasp his name like a prayer.

“that’s it,” he groans, burying his face in your neck.

you can feel him everywhere, every part of you connected. the stretch feels even bigger after the long weeks. your arms wrap around his neck, legs tightening around his hips as if you’re scared he’ll pull away.

“zayne,” you moan his name into his ear, nails digging into his back. you don’t usually ask, content with the pace he sets, but now, in this moment, you need him more than anything.

“harder. please.”

he complies immediately, each thrust driving you deeper into the mattress, your cries muffled against his shoulder.

“god—you feel so good,” he grits out, one hand sliding under you to lift your hips higher, taking him even deeper.

your body trembles, already coiling tight again, he's hitting your sweet spot just right like he’s never left it.

“zayne— i’m-” you start to warn him but he silences you with a kiss that steals your breath.

“come for me again,” he demands softly against your lips. “let go.”

you shatter around him, a silent scream on your lips as your body clenches tight, wave after wave crashing through you.

he holds you through it, his thrusts turning erratic, almost desperate.

“mgh— i can’t—” he chokes out, burying his face in your neck as he follows you over the edge, spilling deep inside with a low groan.

for a long moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing and racing hearts.

then he rolls to the side gently, pulling you with him so you're tucked against his chest.

“i love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “don't ever forget that.”

“i love you, too,” you breathe. and then you smile, after a moment, still dazed but coming to your senses. “thank you for the corrections doctor.”

he snorts softly, actually snorts, burying his face in your hair.

“you’re insufferable.” he mutters, but there’s no real heat in his tone.

he pulls you closer, one arm wrapped around your waist, putting your leg over his waist the same way this began.

“anything for my favorite patient.”

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The shift in angle makes you arch, nails digging into the flexing muscle of his back. He groans, a sound ripped from somewhere so deep it’s almost pained, and his forehead drops to yours. His eyes are squeezed shut, dark lashes fanned against flushed cheeks, and his composure has been frayed thread by thread until all that’s left is the raw, desperate man trembling inside you.

You can feel the tension coiling in him, the desire to keep you close. The telltale hitch of his breath, the way his rhythm stutters and then catches, harder, needier. His hand slides from your hip to your thigh, hitching your leg higher around his waist, and the new depth punches a gasp from both of you. He’s talking now, a low, breathless litany against your skin—my love, my darling, you’re everything—and the words are so saturated with reverence that they feel like prayer.

Then his mouth finds the shell of your ear, his voice a ruined whisper. “I can’t—I don’t ever want this to end. I need you. I need you forever. Please, will you—”

He breaks off with a sharp, stunned inhale, but the words he’s already let slip hang in the humid space between your bodies like a struck bell.

Marry me.

You freeze. He freezes. For one suspended heartbeat, the only movement is the involuntary clench of your body around him, and you watch, dazed, as the reality of what he’s just moaned into your ear crashes over him. 

Zayne’s eyes fly open, wide and glassy with pleasure that is rapidly being eclipsed by outright horror. The flush that was already painting his cheeks and chest deepens to a violent, boyish scarlet, spreading down his neck and over the tops of his shoulders. His hips have stopped moving entirely, though he’s still buried to the hilt, and the sudden stillness is almost unbearable.

“I—” he starts, and his voice cracks. Zayne, whose voice never cracks. He looks utterly, catastrophically wrecked—hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen and glossy, pupils blown so wide there’s only a slim ring of hazel left. “That was not—I did not intend to say that out loud. Not like this. Not while I’m—” he makes a small, strangled gesture between your bodies, as if to indicate the absolute indecency of the circumstances. The movement shifts him inside you in a way that makes you both suck in air.

You should probably help him. You should say something. But the sight of him floundering in the aftermath of his own accidental proposal is so endearingly human that you can’t quite stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. Your chest feels impossibly full, a honey-warm bloom of affection tangling with the lingering heat low in your belly.

“Zayne,” you grin up at him, but he flinches like you’ve just pronounced his death sentence. “Did you just propose to me in the middle of—”

“Yes,” he cuts in, voice strangled and mortified. “And I am terribly, acutely aware that this is not how one is supposed to—there were plans. There was a restaurant and flowers. A ring. I’ve had the ring for months—” he groans, dropping his forehead to the curve of your shoulder, enveloping you in the heat radiating off his skin. “Months, and I ruined it because I couldn’t control my own mouth during—during—”

“Really, really good sex?” you offer, unable to resist.

He makes a wounded noise against your neck. “Please don’t say it like that, my love.”

You laugh, breathless and a little wild, your fingers coming up to card through the damp strands of his hair. He shivers at the touch, still buried deep inside, still half-hard and thrumming with a tension that has nothing to do with lust now, or so you think. “Zayne. Look at me, baby.”

It takes a moment, but he lifts his head. The expression on his face is a war zone. Embarrassment, frustration with himself, and underneath it all, a raw, quivering hope that he’s trying valiantly to hide. He looks so devastatingly beautiful like this—vulnerable and stripped bare in every possible way—that you feel your heart clench right alongside the rest of you.

“Ask me again,” you nudge softly. “Properly.”

His throat works up and down, your eyes tracing the movement with hope and excitement. The flush hasn’t faded, but something in his eyes steadies. He shifts his weight to one elbow, freeing a hand to cup your face with a tenderness that makes your eyes sting. His thumb traces the arch of your cheekbone, so softly it makes you melt even more under his touch. 

When he speaks, his voice is still a little shaken but steadier, every word with purpose behind them now.

“I love you,” he confesses. “I have loved you so long I don’t remember what it felt like before. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up with you and have you steal my shirts and drink my coffee and interrupt my charts with doodles in the margins. I want everything. Every argument, every quiet morning in our home, every messy, inexplicable, wonderful moment of being with you. Will you—” he gulps softly, a ghost of his earlier fluster flickers across his features, but he pushes through it, earnest and achingly sincere. “Will you marry me?”

The answer is already spilling from your lips before he’s finished. A whispered, fervent yes that he catches with his mouth, kissing you with a depth of emotion that steals your breath away. The kiss turns heated almost immediately, the suspended passion roaring back to life, and when he finally rocks his hips again, you both moan into the space between your mouths.

Afterwards, tangled in sheets and each other, he buries his face in your hair and mutters something that sounds like I can’t believe I proposed to you mid-coitus, and you laugh until your sides ache, pressing kisses to his burning cheeks while he tries, and fails, to maintain any remaining shred of dignity.

It is, you decide, the most perfect proposal you could have ever imagined.

© zaynessbeloved 2026. please don’t copy, repost or translate my works. thank you!

🏷️: @aiycnlyme, @syluslittlecrows, @asiaticapple, @youkoden, @w0ndert1nk, @deadlyskepticalnightmare, @2affectionate4z, @daisybbyxx, @kokoa21, @imaginationofafan

Zayne is exactly as you expected him to be—still in his work clothes, a white button up rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing the strong lines of his forearms.

He knows he's in trouble the moment you slide into the seat with that bright, euphoric grin. Your eyes are sparkling, hair slightly damp from the rain, and whole face lit up from just seeing him.

Zayne isn't sure how much longer he can tolerate these long stretches of not seeing your precious face.

"Zaynie!" you beam, instantly throwing yourself across the center console and wrapping your arms around him. "I've missed you."

He grunts in surprise, a quiet laugh escaping him as he catches you against his chest. His arms circle around you automatically, pulling you closer.

"I've missed you too, darling." he murmurs into your hair.

A soft inhale is your reward, nestling into the space between his shoulder and neck, warmth blooming in your chest at the familiar scent of him. Without thinking, you press a soft kiss against the skin there.

You feel the subtle jump of his pulse beneath your lips.

His arms tightens around you for just a second—an involuntary squeeze—before he gently eases you back into your seat.

His ear are flushed a delicate pink.

Zayne clears his throat, shifting the car into drive as he pulls from the curb. The city slides past in rain-blurred streaks of light outside the window.

Inside, the silence is comfortable. But you can't seem to sit still.

It's been far too long.

You lean over the console again, slipping your hand around his bicep and giving it an appreciative squeeze.

"Wooow," you tease, letting you head rest lightly against his shoulder. "Have you been working out?"

Zayne lets out a soft, exasperated breath through his nose, but doesn't shake you off. Instead one hand briefly leaves the wheel to pat where your hand rests before returning to steering.

"Nothing considerably different than my usual routine."

You hum thoughtfully, fingers trailing from his bicep down along his forearms, tracing the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

A low, quiet sigh escapes him as his grip tightens on the wheel.

"You're touchy tonight."

"It's been three weeks," you pout. "What did you expect?"

Your fingers continue their lazy exploration of his arm, tracing his skin. For a moment it's innocent enough—just soft touches of absentminded affection.

Then you grow bored.

Naturally, your hand drifts lower. From his arm… to the solid plane of thigh.

You smirk to yourself as your fingers press down, feeling the immediate way he tenses beneath your wandering touch. Zayne is always controlled, patient, and composed.

But your hands consistently crack every inch of that composure.

And it starts by trailing higher, just to test the waters.

"What are you doing?" he murmurs.

"Nothing," you reply innocently, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder. "I just missed you…"

He lets out a shaky breath, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel once more. His eyes remain on the road, but you catch the way they flick towards you every few seconds.

Your fingers find the cool metal of his belt buckle, tracing its outline against the fabric.

"…stop that."

But he doesn't mean it, because he doesn't move your hand.

So you hook your finger beneath the leather and pull a loop free.

Zayne huffs and a second later the turn signal clicks.

The tires whisper against the wet pavement as he pulls away from the main road. Rain pours harder now, streaking the windshield as he turns into a dim side alley tucked between a looming brick building. The street is deserted.

The engine cuts.

The car suddenly feels warmer, the swish of the wipers the only sound for a long moment before he switches them off too.

Silence.

Then Zayne turns in his seat to face you, hazel-green eyes dark with something heavy and hungry.

"What are you doing?"

His hand rises, cupping your jaw. His thumb strokes slowly along your cheek.

"Don't act all innocent," he murmurs. "You know exactly what I'm doing."

He leans closer, his breath warm against your lips, but he doesn't kiss you yet. His other hand settles on your thigh, squeezing gently through your pants.

"Teasing me has consequences."

You squirm. "I wasn't teasing."

"You weren't?" he quips dryly. "I could have sworn your hands just undid my belt."

You grin, then close the distance first.

Your lips crash into his with a kind of hunger that comes from weeks apart. Zayne immediately makes a low, approving sound in the back of his throat. His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you firmly in place, immediately taking control and deepening the kiss.

His tongue slides against yours, languid at first, then greedy. His other hand moves everywhere—up your waist, down your back to pull you harder against him. The leather seats creaks beneath the shift of his weight as he leans further into you.

He tastes like mint toothpaste and something so uniquely him it makes your head spin.

The windows begin to fog with your shared breath, sealing you in your own private world.

Zayne finally breaks the kiss with a pant, his lips still brushing yours.

"I've been thinking about you."

A pause.

"Every night."

Cool hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, spreading over the warm, bare skin of your waist the same time his mouth find your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear before he soothes the spot with his tongue.

You tug gently at the hair on the nape of his neck.

"Zayne… we're not far from your place."

His lips still, a soft groan vibrating against your throat.

"You seemed less concerned about that when you were playing with my belt."

He grabs your wrist, guiding it from his thigh, before pressing your palm flat against the hard bulge straining against the front of his slacks. You inhale sharply and squeeze experimentally, earning a gratifying hiss from his lips.

"Do you really think I can drive like this?"

Your thumb strokes once over his length and his hands move suddenly, working at the button of your pants.

You glance nervously towards the steamed window. "What if someone sees?"

His gazes follows yours as he lets out a low chuckle. His lips travel to your ear, nibbling gently on the lobe. When he speaks, it's a calm, confident murmur.

"Then I guess they'll see how much I missed my girl."

His hands don't stop their motion and the button of your pants gives way with a soft pop. His fingers hook into the waistband, beginning to push them down.

"Lift your hips." it's a command, not a request. "Help me get these off."

You obey, timidly raising your hips while tugging the material down your thighs until it bunches at your knees. You kick them the rest of the way off, letting them pool onto the floor mats.

The cool air of the car kisses your exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body.

Zayne's gaze drops and lingers appreciatively as it roams over the length of your legs.

And over the delicate lace of your panties, which cling to you—the dark patch between your thighs impossible to miss.

"God," he mumbles under his breath.

Suddenly he pulls away and the driver's door opens.

Rain immediately patters against his clothes as he steps out, pushing the seat forward before shutting the door and opening the back.

A moment later he climbs inside.

"Come here," he calls.

But his hand is already on your arm, guiding you as you awkwardly scramble over the console and into the back with him.

The space is tight and intimate, his large frame making the space feel even smaller.

"Turn over," he orders, hands on your hips. "Face the window."

Your movements are guided as he rotates you with firm gentleness until you're on your knees facing the foggy window.

The world outside is blurred of rain and yellow streetlights.

Zayne leans close behind you, hands roaming your skin before his lips brush your ear.

"I missed you."

"Zaynie…" you whine, aching for him.

A deep groan rumbles through his chest.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling the lace taught against your skin highlighting the soaked fabric between your legs.

"Look at you," he intimately whispers, thumb pressing against your pussy over the damp patch.

You moan softly, hips bucking instinctively into his hand. The gentle pressure of his thumb tracing your clit makes your thighs tremble, a fresh gush of your juices soaking the fabric.

You hear the rustle of clothing and the soft sound of a zipper. His finger disappears, only to be replaced by the heavy heat of his cock now pressing against the your panties.

He drags himself slowly between your covered folds, coating the lace with the first slick smear of precum, then presses the tip against your aching hole.

"You're being mean," you complain, pushing your hips.

He allows it, adjusting his cock to where it prods harder against your clit through the fabric, grinding slowly.

Zayne chuckles.

"You want more?"

He drags the head of his cock teasingly over the swollen nerves again.

"Then ask properly."

"Yes, please," you gasp. "I want more. I want you inside me."

A soft, open-mouthed kiss lands at the nape of your neck, fingers sliding up your spine, bunching your shirt around your shoulders.

He dips, kissing the center of your lower back.

Then the next vertebrae. And the next.

Each kiss is hot and damp against your skin. When he reaches your shoulder he replaces the spot with his hand, pressing down gently to keep you arched and presented for him

The other hand finally hooks into your panties, dragging them to the side. Cool air hits your slick cunt.

"I'd call you a good girl," he mumbles, gaze locked on the glistening wetness between your thighs.

"But you haven't been one."

"M'sorry…" you whimper, trying to slip him into your waiting hole. "I just wanted you."

"But you—"

His cock slaps once against your pussy.

"—know how to be patient."

Another slap.

You jolt.

"I do!" you protest breathlessly. "But you couldn't wait either—that's not fair!"

"You don't like when I play fair."

With one lazy, yet relentless thrust, he shoves his entire length inside you. The burning stretch is immediate and overwhelming, a delicious fullness after so long apart. A choked gasp is torn from your throat as he bottom out, his hips flush against your ass.

Zayne doesn't move at first, just holds himself deep inside you. His hands settle on your hips, caressing your skin before digging his thumbs into the small of your back.

"Mmmgh—fuck—!" you squirm desperately. "More…"

He doesn't budge.

"First you tease."

He slowly pulls out every inch, leaving you empty.

Then pushes back in again, painfully slow.

"Now you're whining when I'm giving you what you want."

You moan helplessly, your next complaint cut off when he finally began to thrusts properly.

Leather creaks beneath you as he establishes a steady rhythm—torturous pulls out followed by powerful drives back in that rock the car's suspension.

"That better?" he pants. "This what you wanted?"

You nod frantically.

"Y-Yes—! Thank you, baby—oh—fuuuckk—!"

Your hands try to clutch the seat while he rocks you forward. One hand leaves your hips to grab a handful your ass, squeezing hard.

The pace of his thrusts increase, becoming slightly more urgent.

"Now you're a good girl," he groans. "When you're stuffed full of me."

"Z-Zayne—! O-Oh my g-god—!" you cry, squishing your cheek against the seats. "Missed you! M-Missed your cock!"

Zayne breath hitches as he drags his cock deeper into your leaking hole.

"I know," he rasps. "I know you did. Fuck… I missed you too, angel."

His rhythm becomes intoxicating. Rain pounds against the car roof while the obscene slick of your pussy taking him echoes in the small space.

"Touch yourself," he instructs. "Make yourself cum around my cock."

You moan, hand shaking as you reach between your own legs, finding the slippery bud of your clit. The pad of your fingers presses against it, and an electric jolt shoots through you; your gummy walls clamping tightly around his cock.

A deep approving groans rumbles in his chest, his cock twitching inside you the only sign he's affected.

Drool pools from your lips onto the seat, the frantic circles of your own fingers and the friction of his cock creating a perfect storm of sensation. Your thighs start trembling.

"Zayne…" you babble. "fuckfuck—m'gonna cum—!"

"Then cum."

His hand presses you down deeper into the seat as you squirm, holding you firmly in place as your orgasm crashes over you. A broken cry spews from your throat as your fingers still, your cunt pulsing around him violently; milking his cock.

You're still floating in that hazy aftermath when he suddenly pulls out with a wet sound.

Before you can react, he flips you onto your back.

Your shirt is still bunched up above your tits, panties shoved aside, leaving you completely exposed to your lovers dark and hungry gaze.

Zayne looks no less ruined himself—hair tousled, his shirt clinging damply to his sweaty skin. His chest rapidly rises and falls as the humid air of the car wraps around you both. The dim alley light turning the space small into something shadowed and intimate.

He leans down, capturing your lips in passionate kiss as pushes back inside you.

Only a few pumps follow while your mouths stay pressed together. A keening sound escapes him—a whimper swallowed by the kiss.

Then he's pulling out again.

His slick length settles against your stomach before he takes himself in his hand.

"Needed to see you. Need to see my beautiful girl when I—nngh—cum all over her."

With a few frantic strokes of his hand, his head tips back with a broken whimper as his cock throbs.

Thick spurts of his release spill from his reddened tip across your stomach and chest.

Again.

And again.

Much more than usual—because he'd probably restrained from pleasuring himself while you'd been apart, stubbornly holding out until he could have you instead.

He groans softly as the last pulses drip onto you, eyes flicking down to the mess he's made of you.

"We are never going that long again."

Then you draw cute doodles on the condensation.

Decades of royalty along the rings that matched your fingers, the ancestral golden form which was molted perfectly for the whole of you marked your fate—your legacy here at the castle. Your history forever made.

Zayne had controlled his thoughts for long enough, his eyes pulling away with a soft pant. His abs moving in and out from his excessive kissing, “…I’ve been waiting,” a soft kiss to your chin, “so long to feel you properly, to touch you like…”

His hand went to your lower back, pulling you towards his chest more. Your body pressed against his bare chest, the rich scent of your shampoo, your natural smell — silk, golden jewels, a fragrance only he’s been able to adore made the tightness in his pants increase, “fuck…”

“Language mister,” you placed your arms around his neck, pulling yourself upwards and kissing his jawline. With another kiss to your temple, Zayne looked down, making eye contact instantly, “Mister? I think you’ve made a mistake, I’m Mrs Li, and you’re...”

“Mrs Li…” you finished, “hasn’t my name improved so much from my maiden state? Mrs Li, Empress Li—“

“Fuck…” Zayne whimpered out, your eyes turning to his gaze, wondering what was wrong. A hand went to his hair, brushing the soft black locks back, his eyes shut tight, “Zayne? What is it?”

His eyes opened, looking down, “Don’t say that—I mean, it sounds nice. Don’t doubt me on that but it’s just—it has a…a. Shit…”

You sat on the bed, your hands behind your back, keeping your eyes on his body, “Has a what?”

Zayne walked towards the window, the robes of his trousers just slightly outlined his legs when he walked. His eyes looked outside, his hands holding the windowsill, “Nothing my love, don’t worry,” he sat down on one of the rocking chairs, laying his head back.

“Zayneeee, you know I don’t like it when you hide things from me—“ Your eyes travelled down his body, looking at the sexy details of his pairing and ancient clothes, staring at his spread legs when you locked eyes with….?!—

A gasp left your mouth, more seductive than shocked.

“Oh…I see,” you stood up, walking towards Zayne position, his dark hazel eyes full of lust and hunger, glaring at the curves of your body dressed in his silk gown, fuck. His eyes went to your face, “What..what do you see?”

“Someone’s worked up huh? Can’t resist reacting to your Empress in your own clothes huh?”

“Stop,” he warned, your body straddling his lap, his hand going straight for your hips, “You’re playing with fire,” he murmured your name, watching at your hands travelled to his lips. His soft lips let out a small, shaky sigh as Zayne spoke through gritted teeth, his hand went to the back of your head.

“I don’t mind getting burnt,” his hands travelled to your thighs, gripping them softly. Your face coming closer to his, lips nearly touching once again, “not if it’s by my Emperor.”

His barrier snapped instantly, his body holding you close, “Then don’t cry once it hits you.”

“Ahhh! Fuck—Zayne!!” you moaned, tears running down your face, and past the blindfold.

Zayne’s golden chain bound to your hands, pinning them above your head and attached to the headboard. His dick pounding into your sweet cunt, hitting your cervix every few thrusts, his groans from behind you filling the air.

“You’re so—” he held onto your hips, “fuck! you’re so gorgeous…i need more.”

Zayne continued to relentlessly fuck you, his hands brining your body back, your legs twitching from the force, “please!—oh fuck—i can’t i cant!”

“Yes you can, fuck yes you can,” Zayne thrusted harder into you, his hips smacking into your ass.

His balls slapped onto your folds, his hips continuing to connect with a harsh thwap, his hands gripping at your hands and your waist. Your bare back exposed to his view, his eyes noticing the bare brown flesh.

Instantly, he lowered his head down, his soft lips caressing your skin, kissing the skin with harsh bites, littering his makes all over your upper back and your shoulders, another kiss on your jawline under your ear. Your pussy clenched around his dick, tightening the stretch everytime he plunged into your poor pussy.

You tugged on the golden rope, moaning out with clear overstimulation, “P—please! oh my goooshh, you’re fucking me so good!—Ahhh! mmhm!!”

“Y-yeah? It feels good, pretty?“ Zayne mocked your tone, feeling your pussy clench around his length again, your ass rippling against the force of his hips. His eyes mesmerised from the sight. With soft moans and sobs, you replied.c “Y-yeah! soooo good! please…! fuck me!”

“I am, is it not enough?”

“More—more please, more Emperor,” another sob, his cock stimulating your walls so perfectly like he was sculpted yo fit you.

Zayne grabbed your shoulders, “If my Empress wants more, then more is what she’ll get.”

Flipping you around, he places you onto your back, his cock still feel inside of you, your hands still bound above your head and your legs spread far. Zayne’s hands went behind your knee, pushing your legs up to your chest and holding you there. Then, he placed your hands around to hold your legs, still bound around your wrist, just under the back of your knees.

“Hah! w-hat are you?—gahh!” moaning loudly, you tugged on the restraints. Zayne slammed his cock into your pussy once again, thrusting hard into your wet cunt in a quick succession. The scent of sure sex in the air only made Zayne more obsesssed with you.

His eyes looked down, staring ar the mess in between your legs, the slick from eating you out earlier splattering into your stomach and his lower abs, the tense feeling in his stomach intensifying as he continued to pound you.

Then his eyes laid on something…special.

Your belly, everytime he would thrust into you. A bulge could appear clear as day, showing him how deep he really was, “Oh…?”

“W—what? Mmhm—what is it?” lifting your head up a little, your eyes spotted the bulge as he slowly thrusted, “…I really am deep huh,”

“Y-yeah you are…fuck please,” you whimpered, your cunt clenching around him again, throwing your head back, “more zayne…please?—Hah! Ohh—“

Zayne thrusted hard once again into your pussy, not stopping until he could feel your body jolting back onto the mattress with the force of his cock plunging into your cunt, “Fuck—I need to give us a heir—I need to. Let me, darling. Can I?” Zayne groaned, your pussy pulsating at the thought already, “Is that a yes?”

“Yes! Please!” Another pathetic moan, Zayne had to do something about it.

He held onto the headboard, “Brace yourself,” Zayne pulled out, the tip only missing inside your entrance, “because as soon as I start, I’m not stopping.”