It’s a slow Saturday morning, and Zayne has been blessed with a midday shift, which means there is no rush in his morning routine and you can watch him prepare for the day in the comfort of your bed.
He looks extra handsome today, you think. Sleep still hangs over his eyes, his glasses hastily perched on that ridged nose. Stubble dots along his jaw, the soft angle hidden under morning shadow. You still feel it prickle on your skin from he kissed your shoulders.
Even his pajamas were doing something for you. You kick your feet under the blankets because he just makes you that giddy.
While Zayne prepares his razor for his morning shave, he turns his face this way and that, observing himself in the mirror.
“I think I’ve gained some weight,” he says, tone neutral.
You blink in surprise, tugged out of your love-stricken stupor by the sudden statement. When he swipes through the shaving cream rubbed onto his jaw, you see that the prominent line has softened some.
When Zayne reaches over to grab a towel, you see pale skin peek out from the bottom of his white t-shirt. A bit of belly greets you, and his happy trail invites your gaze lower.
You haven’t really noticed it, because his routine never changes. A morning run every day, and an hour gym session three times per week. It compensates for how often he eats take out in a time crunch and the macaron stash hidden in the second drawer of his desk (where he thinks you don’t know).
But now that he brought it up, he has all of your attention.
His shirt is a little more filled out than usual, and maybe you can see the outline of his thighs under the pajama pants. His arms look bulky, strong, all thanks to him insisting on pull-ups as a workout staple.
“Is that bad?” you ask, though you already know your answer.
Definitely, one-hundred percent, not bad in the slightest.
“No,” Zayne chuckles, and you realize that his eyes are already on you. You shift around in the bed, warm and inviting. “It’s normal with age.”
Zayne finishes his shave with time to spare, wiping the excess water and cream from his face, and takes his time lumbering back to your bed. You lean up, reaching out toward him, waiting for him to meet you in the middle, which he always does.
Your arms wrap around his middle. Your wandering hands don’t hesitate to hike his shirt up to feel the soft skin underneath. “Then why bring it up?”
Your hands run over his stomach, down to his hips, around the front tie of his pants. In return, he tugs off his shirt, letting you drink in his body with new eyes.
His smile is smug when you pepper his bare skin with kisses. “I thought you’d like to know.”
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he’s been watching you play the whole time - whilst zayne may seem like he’s entirely focused on one of the many files opened on his laptop, he’s been sneaking peaks at your switch and quickly reading whatever subtiles he can pick up (you’d been so sweet as to put your earphones in and not disturb him).
the screen is littered in pink; from petals to bubbles, his - arguably silly-looking - mii confesses he believes he’s fallen for you. it’s not the first time, nor the second, of course not. it’s the third time zayne’s witnessed his doppelgänger go through this.
he adjusts his glasses, trying to sound indifferent as he says, “is there really no way for you to make mii’s break up?”
he knows the answer, because he’s been scouring the internet for any indication that it’s possible. his search history shows a previous visit of just 1 hour ago.
there are only so many rejections even he can take.
you smirk and press yourself into his side. pinching his cheeks, you reply, “so you are jealous. my poor zaynie, are you feeling neglected?”
and zayne feels his ears burn at your attention. he doesn’t say anything, instead deciding quietly steaming away is the best case scenario. he refuses to be bait here!
“well, you don’t have to worry. the real ‘mii’—“ he smiles and you feel pride instantly— “would only ever choose you.”
“is that so?”
you hum, resting your head on his shoulder now. zayne relaxes against you, nestling his head atop yours. he feels his chest ache when you say:
“i’m pretty sure this is, at the very least anyway, the fourth lifetime in which i’ve chosen only you. i just know it.”
A sharp pain in your abdomen jolted you awake. You carefully slipped out of bed in order to not wake up Zayne. Your period was about to start soon but you had no idea it would be tonight. You didn't bring any pads/tampons with you, so you headed to the bathroom where was the cabinet which Zayne made just for you. It was packed with all the necessary period supplies
You stepped inside, the cold tiles were perfect contrast to your warm body. You quickly changed your underwear,put on the pad/tampon and started washing off the bloody stain on your pajama. When you returned to the bedroom Zayne wasn't sleeping anymore. He was bending over the bed, the dim light of the bedside lamp illuminated the room just a little. "Sorry, did I wake you?" you said, your voice heavy with sleep until your gaze landed on the bed. There was a medium size blood stain you mustve left in your sleep. "I'm sorry Zayne, I will wash it off immediately."guilt consumed you in a blink of an eye. You turned on your heel and wanted to go get the sponge, but Zayne grabbed your hand and stopped you. "Sit. You must be in pain. I'll take care of it." You wanted to protest but indeed you didn't feel the best.
You sat down on the edge of the bed and within seconds he returned with the sponge and a bowl of cold water. You watched as he precisely removed the stain. When everything was washed and clean, he took the duvet and pillows in his hands. "I assume we need to move to the sofa until it dries."he said, there wasn't even a hint of anger in his voice. "You're not mad?"you asked, eyes finding his. He put the sheets aside, knelt in front of you and took your palms in his. "My love." he began. "Things like this happen and it's nothing to be ashamed of. I work with blood on a daily basis, menstrual bleeding neither bother me nor disgust me." he explained. "That's a good sign you got your period. It means your body is functioning properly. I'd be more concerned if your period didn't show up."he cupped your cheek and kiss you sweetly and you felt as if all your worries had disappeared.
Note: Here's something fluffy before I start working on part 2 of my previous fic. Enjoy!❤️🩹
—✶⋆.˚content: med student!zayne, virgin!zayne, light mutual pining, first time, handjobs, eating out, unexpected orgasm, riding mdni ✶⋆.˚—
—✶⋆.˚wc: 5k (help i got carried away) ✶⋆.˚—
—✶⋆.˚dt: @elliecutte ily ✶⋆.˚—
“Do you ever take a break?”
Zayne doesn’t look up from his textbook as he replies, his voice quiet as it always is. “I’m a medical student. I don’t have time for breaks.”
A smile plays on your lips as you stir your coffee idly. “That’s not healthy, you know. You’re going to burn out.”
His pen taps once against the table before he finally glances up. His hazel-green eyes catch the café’s amber light, framed by the faint gleam of his glasses. “Your point?”
You trace a slow circle along the edge of his thick textbook. “How are you going to be a fine surgeon if you’re bottled up in stress?”
A hint of a smile ghost across his mouth, leaving as quick as it came. “As I said, I don’t have time for that.”
“You don’t have time,” you counter, “or you don’t make time?”
That earns you a faint flush along his ears. Zayne looks down, then back at you with a small, almost shy curve of his lips. Up close, he looks tired, the kind of exhaustion that sits behind his eyes, but stays distractingly handsome.
“You already know the answer to that,” he murmurs.
Leaning forward, you prop your chin on your hand. “So truly, you only study?”
He nods.
“You don’t go to the gym? Watch movies? Do anything remotely fun?” There’s teasing in your tone, but its lined with something genuine.
Zayne rubs at the back of his neck, a gesture that’s both nervous and endearing. “Sometimes I go for a run, but… no. Not really. It’s just studying.”
You watch him take a long sip of coffee, and you think the conversation should end there. But curiosity nudges you forward.
“Do you ever date?” you ask before you can think better of it. You don’t have the intention of changing the conversation the way it does when you ask, but suddenly the room feels warmer.
He chokes on his drink, coughing into his sleeve. “Um—no. Definitely not that,” his ears turn crimson. “I don’t really see how that’s relevant to stress relief.”
You can’t help but smile, caught between amusement and intrigue. “Well,” you say slowly, “some people would argue.. you know… helps.”
He blinks, startled by your statement. You can definitely feel the temperature of the café rise now.
“I—uh—” he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, eyes darting away. “I’ve never really… had time for that.”
The silence stretches, but it’s gentle. You watch his fingers fidget with the corner of his notebook, the tension gathering in the slope of his shoulders. Finally, he adds, so quiet it could have drowned out if you weren’t listening:
“Ever.”
You blink back, startled but not judgmental. “Ever?”
He shakes his head, eyes still downcast. The movement is small, almost apologetic.
Something twists in your chest. It’s not pity, but rather a strange warmth. Zayne looks so flustered that you instantly regret asking, though his admission sends an unexpected rush of heat through you.
“That’s alright,” you say softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s okay,” he assures, voice barely above a murmur. Then his eyes lift to meet yours, waves of uncertainty crashing through the color. “You’re not going to make fun of me?”
Your lips part in quiet surprise. “Of course not,” you say in a firm tone. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
A short humorless laugh escapes him as he closes the textbook. “Right. Nothing like still being a virgin.”
The words shouldn’t affect you the way they do. But they hang in the air between you. His nervous honesty tugs at something deep inside you.
“There isn’t,” you assure once more.
Zayne looks away, flustered again, unaware of how intently you’re watching him now. Maybe he’s always look at you like that—shy, half-hidden glances behind those lenses. Maybe you’ve always looked at him like this.
You clear your throat softly, trying to dispel the tension, but it lingers, humming along the calm in the café.
“I should get going,” he says finally, glancing out the window. The sun has dipped beneath the horizon, leaving streaks of rose and amber melting into the dusk.
You stand with him, stacking cups and napkins. “I’ll walk with you,” you offer lightly. “If you’d like.”
Zayne looks at you, then offers a small, grateful curve of his lips. “Of course I would.”
The evening air hits softly as you step outside, carrying the faint chill of autumn and the scent of roasted coffee the shop leaves behind you. Zayne holds the door open as he always does, and you thank him, brushing past close enough to feel the warmth of his arm through his sweater.
For some reason, the space between you feels different now. You’ve always thought Zayne was cute in that composed, too-serious way—but you never let it mean anything. Not really. The memory of his confession lingers. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t affect you. Yet the image of his flushed face, the nervous tremor in his voice, won’t let go. You wonder if he looks that way in the heat of the moment, and if you’ll be able to lose that picture of him in your mind long enough until you get home.
He catches you spacing out. “You okay?”
You nod quickly. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About what?”
You shrug, forcing a teasing smile. “How you manage to be the busiest person alive.”
That earns a laugh from him, easing your thoughts. “It’s not like I mean to be.”
“Oh please,” you nudge. “You schedule yourself to the brink. All these classes to graduate early. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve forgotten how to relax.”
He exhales through his nose, gaze dropping to his shoes. His pace slows so you walk side by side. “Honestly? I think I have.”
“That’s tragic,” you say. “Someone should teach you.”
Zayne glances at you, amused but a little flustered. You realize then that there’s an unspoken double meaning to your words. Though it isn’t directly your intention, you don’t bother to correct it.
“And who exactly would volunteer for that?” he asks, tone lighter than his eyes.
“Maybe someone patient,” you smile, hoping your blush passes for the chill in the air.
He laughs shyly. “You’re assuming I’m a quick learner.”
“Med student,” you poke his arm. “You’ve got to be.”
The easy back-and-forth settles into something sweet. Conversation drifts, touching on nothing important. All trivial things that run under a quiet undercurrent neither of you names. Your shoulders brush once, and you feel it again. Zayne smells faintly of soap, coffee, and something cozy, like cedar, maybe. You catch yourself leaning closer than necessary as you both step off the curb, and your pulse skips at the awareness of how tall he is beside you.
You really need to get a grip. But it’s hard when silence takes over, filled only by the rhythm of your footsteps. The streetlights blink on overhead, painting his profile in a warm glow. He looks thoughtful with his eyes down, hands in his pockets. Something soft, and almost gentle enough to touch.
When his building appears, Zayne slows. You both stop near the steps, the air between you stretching thin with the kind of pause that begs to be filled.
He hesitates, then says casually, “You, uh… mentioned stress relief earlier.”
Your heartbeat quickens. “Yeah?”
“I heard music helps,” he gestures vaguely towards the door, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “I just got a few new vinyls, If you want to… listen?”
The offer lands somewhere between innocent and not. His tone is careful, but his eyes betray him. You could melt into a puddle on the pavement from how cute and sheepish he is in trying to hide it.
“I’d like that.”
Relief visibly flickers across his face as he unlocks the door. As he holds it open for you again, your body brushes his briefly and the warmth of the touch follows you both inside.
Zayne’s apartment is exactly what you’d imagined it would be—clean, organized, yet lived in just enough to feel real. A clutter of notes rests on the coffee table next to some open books, an abandoned mug sits by the sink.
“This is so you,” you say, stepping further inside.
The soft click of the lock fills the space behind you, followed by his gentle voice. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
You flash him a smile over your shoulder as he toes off his shoes. The movement is casual, but your eyes linger longer than you mean to. When you realize it, you turn quickly, pretending to take in the rest of the space.
“Alright,” you say, forcing a playful tone. “You’re supposed to be relaxing, right? Music is the plan?”
He gestures towards a small shelf near the window stacked with vinyl’s. “Go ahead. Pick something.”
You drop down onto the plush rug, cross-legged, and start flipping through his collection. The sleeves are worn at the corners, the kind of wear that says he actually listens to them. You trace your fingers along the spines, murmuring, “You’ve got good taste.”
Behind you, Zayne chuckles nervously. “I hope so. Not many people to compare notes with.”
You glance back, smirking. “Well, this part of your social circle approves,” you slide out a record with a familiar sultry cover, your grin widening. “Cigarettes After Sex?”
He goes pink instantly. “It’s good music,” he defends too quickly.
You laugh softly. “I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
You rise, careful as you place the record on the turntable and lower the needle. The first dreamy notes bloom into the air, hazy and low.
A frown graces your lips as you look around. “We have got to do something about this lighting.”
“What’s wrong with the lighting?”
“It’s way too bright,” a giggle leaves your lips. “You really did forget how to chill.”
He shifts, blushing slightly, looking entirely unsure with what to do with his hands.
“Candles?” you ask.
He nods toward a shelf. You grab one, strike a match and light the wick. The tiny flame flutters to life just as he dims the overhead lights, plunging the room into a golden flicker from the candle accompanied by the glow of a lamp.
Suddenly, the apartment feels smaller. Closer. The music hums low, the shadows stretch gently, and everything feels welcomely intimate.
You sink down into the couch, locking your eyes on Zayne. “You’re not going to stand there all night, right? You did invite me over to relax.”
He exhales a small, shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Guess so.”
“Then sit,” your voice is soft as you pat his sofa, a silly gesture being you’re the guest in his home.
His steps are careful as he finally joins you, folding himself down. The distance between you is polite. For a while, neither of you speak. The room is filled with soft sounds of your environment mixed with the rhythmic pulse of your hearts.
“See?” you murmur. “Isn’t this nice?”
Zayne nods, glancing sideways. “Yeah. It is.”
Your head turns, resting against the cushions as you study him and the candlelight that softens his features. There’s something shy, yet brave in his gaze, like he’s trying to find words for something too big to say.
“I just…” he starts, then trails off, shaking his head with a half-smile.
“What?” you ask quietly.
“Nothing.”
You poke his arm playfully. “Not nothing.”
He hesitates, then blurts, “I can’t believe I told you I’m a virgin.”
Your smile comes easily. “I can’t believe you are a virgin.”
Zayne’s ears go crimson. “And why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because you’re…you. You’re smart, and funny…”
You trail off your sultry tone as you reach out and gently take his glasses from his face. He freezes, breath catching, and you hold his gaze as you fold and set them aside. “And attractive.”
A tiny sound slips from his lips. “You think so?”
“Mmhmm…” you let your gaze drift to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Is it safe to assume that’s... maybe the real reason you invited me over?”
Zayne doesn’t say anything with his mouth, but his eyes tell you everything.
So, you lean in.
The kiss is soft at first—tentative, tasting of nerves and longing. He stiffens, then melts, one hand rising hesitantly to your jaw, the other curling in the fabric of the couch. The kiss deepens only when you tilt you head and sigh into him, and he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years.
“I…” he whispers, breath brushing your mouth. “Are you sure?”
You nod. “Are you?”
The answer comes in another kiss, deeper this time. Your body instinctively moves closer, and his arm wraps around your waist. The hold is tentative at first, then more certain as your fingers slip into his hair. The music hums around you, dreamy and slow, and every heartbeat seems to echo between your lips.
Your tongue swipes experimentally over his bottom lip, and he groans softly before opening to you. His response is a mirrored hunger as you make out until you’re both breathless. When he pulls back for air, his cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and glossy from the kiss. You can’t resist tugging gently at his ear, feeling a shiver pass through him as he tries to steady himself.
“We should move to my bedroom,” he offers, a slight tremor in his voice.
You nod, your hand sliding into his as he guides you. His fingers are warm and slightly unsteady, so you trace your thumb across his knuckles in an attempt to soothe the nerves. As the bedroom door opens, a soft glow spills in.
Zayne’s hands are on you the moment he faces you, cradling your jaw as he captures your lips with confidence. You melt into the kiss, letting him set the pace while sparks shoot through your body.
“I’ve thought about this… about you,” he confesses against your lips before claiming them again with a hunger that makes your knees weak. You gasp softly, hands sliding down to tug at the hem of his shirt.
With a swift motion, he peels it off, tossing it aside, and your lips find each other again. Your fingers trace the sculpted lines of his chest. He lets out a soft hiss, a flutter of nerves mixing with excitement.
Your shirt joins the floor soon after, and as Zayne fumbles slightly with his belt, you slide out of your jeans. The two of you pause for a moment, standing nearly bare. Something tentative flickers in his eyes, and before it consumes him, you guide him gently onto the mattress, where he lands with a soft grunt.
Your lips met his again as you straddle him, the press of him against your heat a tantalizing promise. His hands tremble as they rest on your hips, and a wide, uncertain gaze meets yours.
“I… I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, voice husky with vulnerability.
“Don’t worry,” you whisper, leaving a trail of gentle kisses from his jaw to his neck. “Just let me take care of you.”
A sharp inhale leaves him at the sensitive touch of your lips. His hands tighten around your hips, fingers digging gently into the skin. “I don’t… I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“Shhh…” you coo, nuzzling against his neck. “Just do what feels natural.”
You rock against him once, slow enough to test the reaction. A choked gasps escapes him, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. When they open, they’re dark with want, a nervous flicker replaced with trust and longing.
“I want you to show me what you like,” he murmurs, finger tracing lightly along your back, brushing your spine over the strap of your bra.
You kiss the plane of his chest. “I like this,” you admit softly. “I like teaching you. That your inexperienced… it’s kind of hot.”
He blushes, lips parting slightly. “You’re the one who’s hot,” he says, fumbling with your bra clasps. You nod, offering reassurance, rubbing soothing circles over his arms as he struggles. When the fastenings finally give, he releases a small, startled breath.
“You alright?”
Zayne nods feverishly. “Just.. nervous.”
“Don’t be,” you reply, pecking his lips as you let your bra slip off. Your breasts spill free as you lean back to let your body be seen.
His gaze drops to your chest before immediately snapping back to your face, ears flushing even darker. “You’re beautiful.”
A smirk graces your lips as you rub yourself over him again, and a low groan rumbles in his chest. His hands hover over you, expression needy as he asks to touch you.
“Yes…” you nod, feeling the damp heat between your thighs grow as the hard line of him presses insistently against you. “Touch me.”
His hands cup your breasts, thumbs grazing over your nipples until they pebble, sending a shiver rolling down your spine. A soft sound slips from your lips, caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan.
“You’re… so soft,” he murmurs, awe coating every syllable.
You continue to move, rocking gently over him. The wetness that pools leaves a slick trace on the fabric of his boxers. His eyes widen at the sensation, hips lifting instinctively towards yours. “You’re so wet,” he breathes, his voice low and hoarse.
A whimper escapes in reply, your mind swimming in the delicate friction. You’re savoring the slow burn, teasing him as much as yourself—but a part of you is craving to take him inside you until he’s a whimpering mess beneath you.
His hands trail down from your chest to your hips, brushing circles on your hipbone with his thumbs. Zayne’s voice drops to a husky whisper. “Can I… see you properly?”
“You’re ready?”
His nod is quick, almost desperate. “More than ready,” his fingers ghost along the lace of your panties. “Just tell me if I do something wrong.”
You lift slightly, letting him pull them down, which he does slowly. The fabric peels down your legs as cool air gazes your slick warmth, pricking your skin in goosebumps. His breathing becomes uneven as he sees you fully exposed and ready for him.
“Can we take these off too?” you bat your lashes, reaching for him. When he nods, you pull the thin fabric of his boxers down, and his cock springs free. It smacks against his stomach, the tip glistening with a bead of precum.
“Zayne…” you sigh, letting your thumb glide over the slit, smearing the slickness over the head. “You’re so big.”
A soft moan escapes his lips as he buries his face in your neck. Your hand wraps around him fully, stroking in slow, measured motions. He tenses beneath your touch, hips twitching instinctively into your hand to match your pace.
“I want to make you feel good,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough with need.
You bite your lip as you smirk. “Mmm… you will.”
The slow strokes on his cock continue, drawing low groans from him while his eyes flutter shut, head leaning back against the pillows. When he covers your hand gently with his own, halting your motions, his voice cracks slightly. “W-Wait… I need a second.”
You hum, eyes fixed on his, hand still wrapped around him as he pulses in your grasp.
Cheeks blazing, he swallows hard. “I don’t want to… finish to fast. Can I… taste you first?”
Your pussy flutters around nothing at the words. You bite your lip, fighting the soft sound threatening to escape. “You want to try?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation, flipping you so he hovers above you. The movement is so quick and gentle, it leaves you dizzy in desire. His lips trail a path of gentle kisses from your navel downward, and you shiver, heart hammering. “Tell me what to do,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours.
Zayne’s lips press a slow, lingering kiss to your inner thigh, before his dark gaze travels down to the aching, slick mess between your legs. He shudders, a low breath escaping as he admires every inch of you, and your skin burns under his intense scrutiny.
“Do you… know where the clit is?” you ask, curiosity threading your words.
His brow furrows in thought, the medical student in him surfacing instantly. “Anatomically, yes,” he says, voice quiet, eyes flicking back to yours with a sudden, beautiful shyness. “But… practically?”
You smile, shifting slightly to open yourself further. “Just… you’ll want to lick and suck there. Use your fingers first—I’ll tell you when you find it.”
Zayne swallows, settling between your thighs. He suppresses a groan, just from seeing at how wet you are, how you’re aching but taking it slow just for him. He wants to make this a rewarding experience.
His fingertips trace a featherlight path along your thigh, sliding into your folds. A gasp escapes you, heat rushing through your veins as his eyes drink in your reactions. He swirls, teasing until he lands on the bundle of sensitive nerves, and your back arches in response.
“Y-Yeah… there,” you breathe.
A low hum of satisfaction vibrates from him as he parts you gently, fingers spreading you for better access. Your puffy, swollen pussy greets him as he presses against your clit, gently circling. He glances at you once more before dipping his head, placing a hot, careful kiss on your core.
His tongue darts out to replace the pressure of his fingers, licking a deep stripe of your arousal. He groans against you at the taste, beginning to swirl experimentally. His tongue finds a demanding, insistent rhythm that makes you shiver and moan.
Your hands find his dark hair, playing with it gently as he teases, flicks, and gently sucks, eyes meeting yours—and lighting up when you moan harder and rock your hips against his face.
“You’re… doing so good,” you moan, voice trembling.
A soft groan vibrates against your core, and he rewards your praise, tongue tracing deliberate circles over your clit. He keeps your pussy spread open for him, the other hand digging into the plush skin on your thigh, pushing it down toward the mattress every time you twitch.
“Yeah… oh—god—”
Zayne pulls back slightly, lips and chin glistening with your juices. “You’re so responsive,” he whispers, voice thick with desire and fascination. “I want to make you come.”
Before you can answer, his head dips back down, mouth devouring you. You squirm against the sheets, a familiar, delicious pressure building low in your stomach.
“Just like that…” you breathe. “Don’t stop, and you’ll make me come.”
His rhythm becomes confident, tongue pressing firmly while his finger traces your entrance, sliding in just the tip. You gasp, tugging at his hair.
“Fuck…”
Zayne groans, fully pressing his finger inside you, then another, moving it in and out to coax you open gently. He watches your face as you start to unravel, hips shifting restlessly against the mattress beneath him.
You watch, lips parted, as Zayne—your shy, hesitant student—devotes himself fully to your pleasure while shamelessly fucking himself against the mattress for a sense of relief.
“God… Zayne,” you choke out.
His pace falters for a heartbeat as he realizes you’re watching him, cheeks coloring with a sudden embarrassment from being caught.
“N-No… it’s okay,” you assure sweetly, stroking his hair. “Keep going.”
The pleasure resumes, ragged breathing filling the room accompanied by the slick sounds of his tongue against you. His hips stutter lightly as he groans, utterly lost in the moment.
“Oh fuck—” you mewl. “You’re gonna make m-me come!”
He shudders violently, working you right over the edge. Your clutch his hair as your walls pulse around his fingers, waves of blinding euphoria ripping through your skin. You pant, trying to catch your breath as Zayne looks up at you, dazed and completely enchanted by his success.
He pulls back slowly, and when you glance down, you see a dark, wet stain blooming on the sheets where his release hit the fabric.
“Did you come?” you ask, a mixture of awe and desire swimming in your voice.
Poor Zayne looks away, completely mortified as he gives a quick, jerky nod. “Against the sheets. I… I couldn’t help it.”
You chuckle softly. “Fuck Zayne… it turned you on that much? That I was coming?”
When he doesn’t answer, looking like he wants the ground to swallow him whole, you pull him up by his wrists, kissing him deep enough to taste yourself on his lips. He gasps as you flip him onto his back, straddling him once more. His hands settle on your waist instinctively, cock twitching against your stomach, still hard and leaking from his unexpected orgasm.
“I’m sorry,” he sputters. “That was so embarrassing.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you purr. “I think it was hot.”
The soft sound that escapes him is almost a whimper, a blush permanently dusting his face. You swipe at a bead of cum from his cock with your thumb, watching the flush deepen.
“Can you take more?” you ask, teasing.
“Yes,” he answers instantly.
“Condoms?”
“Top drawer.”
You lean over to open the nightstand, pulling out an unopened box. Tearing the seal, you break off a foil packet and hand it to him.
“Do you know how to put it on?”
Zayne flushes, fingers trembling as he tears the packet and rolls the slippery latex over his length. You watch with a hunger that has your pulse throbbing in your pussy, every slow movement flooding you with anticipation. When his eyes meet yours, they are dark and wanting.
“Can I ride you now?” you mumble in a seductive tone, running your hands over the sculpted lines of his chest. His hands find their way back around your waist as he nods.
“Please,” the words are gentle and deep—so eager to be ruined. “Show me how.”
His hands guide you as you hover over him, tip teasing your slick entrance. Once glance at him, fully immersed in the scene, and you sink down. Your gummy walls press around just the head and a choked gasp escapes him.
You begin a slow, teasing rhythm, sliding just the tip of his cock in and out of your pussy. His entire body tenses, hands roaming from your hips to cup your breasts, thumbs pressing into your nipples.
“It feels—fuck—it feels so good,” he groans. His hips twitch upward, trying to push deeper into you. “More. Please.”
You obey, lowering down on him further. The pressure has your lips falling open in a soft moan. “Fuuuck, Zayne… you’re stretching me open…”
A strangled moan catches in Zayne’s throat, and his hands slam onto your hips, driving you fully down. The sudden action steals your breath as he fills you completely.
“You’re so tight,” he hisses, eyes squeezed shut as he adjusts to your warmth.
You lean forward, peppering kisses along his jaw. “Look at you,” you murmur. “Not a virgin anymore.”
His eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure. “No,” he rasps. “I’m not.”
You lift, his length slipping out before you shove it back in softly. Again, and again you gently bounce on him, earning thick groans and curses from Zayne’s lips. He already looks fucked out—hair sticking to his forehead as his lips part to beg for more.
“Please,” he chokes out, hips bucking up to meet your slow thrusts, fingers digging into your skin, guiding you to move. “Faster.”
The pace quickens instantly, your slick walls glide up and down his length as the headboard taps softly against the wall with each connected motion.
“Zayne—haah!”
A symphony of ragged moans fill the room as he matches your pace, rutting into you like he can’t get enough. His hands explore possessively, mapping your body before resting on your back.
“Don’t stop,” he breathes. “You’re so beautiful like this.”
You whimper at the compliment, praises falling from your lips. “You’re doing so good… look at you.”
His pupils are blown wide in pleasure as he thrusts upwards, cock hitting your cervix while a deep groan rumbles in his chest. “Fuck. You’re ruining me.”
You arch back slightly, bouncing as the new angle brushes your g-spot. Your breasts rise with every movement, and Zayne looks on the edge of finishing just from the sight.
“Yeah?” you whimper.
“Y-Yeah,” he stutters, eyes locked on your body. He cradles your back, supporting you as you ride him. “Completely.”
The room fills with the sounds of your shared moans and the sopping sounds of sex, the vinyl long finished. You maintain your pace, even as his falters—overwhelmed by the sensation of your walls squeezing him tight as the delicious pressure builds.
When you look down to watch him disappear inside you, your control slips entirely.
“Shit—” you gasp, bouncing harder. It’s a filthy sight, your juices coating his cock which swells against the latex.
Zayne follows your gaze, sweat beading on his forehead. “Fuck. I’m so close.”
Your nails dig crescents into his shoulder as convulsing waves overtake you. “Yeah? Fuck—mmgh—m’coming…”
The prettiest sound escapes from Zayne’s lips as your pussy milks him. His orgasm hits him hard—hips stuttering into your heat as he floods the condom in his release.
He collapses back onto the pillow, tugging you down with him. Shaking, he nuzzles into your neck, warm and completely spent.
“Holy shit…” you murmur, a soft chuckle escaping. His hands stroke gently on your back to soothe your body from the aftershocks.
“That was…” he pants, voice low and satisfied. “Incredible.”
You lift your head slightly, a playful smile on your lips. “Great sex. Are you sure you were a virgin?”
Zayne glance away, somehow still bashful. “I’m sure.”
You run a hand along his chest, tracing the rise and fall before setting it against his heartbeat. “Well,” you begin, resting your head, “I think you’re a natural.”
He lets out a small laugh that warms the room in a different way, turning to press a kiss to your temple. You sigh into it, curling against him. The room falls into a peaceful serenity.
“I still can't believe that you managed to lose your voice too,” you comment, pressing a soft peck to Zayne's burning forehead as you wrap the duvet tighter around your tangled bodies. You frown upon realising that his temperature hasn't faltered since you last checked it, hoping the medicine he's taken will take effect soon.
“I love you, you know that, right?” he whispers fondly, his voice barely audible over the dulcet pitter-patter of the rain falling outside your window. His eyes are soft at the edges as he peers at you, the area around his nose tinted a bright red from the number of times he's abused it with the tissues that now lay in a pile next to him. Yet, even in this disheveled state, you almost want to groan at how beautiful Zayne looks.
As if saying it once isn't enough, Zayne's hands reach under the duvet aimlessly until they find yours, interlocking your fingers together as he brings them up to his lips. He presses a delicate kiss to each of your knuckles before mumbling, “I love you so, so much.”
The sensation of his lips brushing against your fingers sends jolts through your chest, your heart warming at how gentle he is with you even after all this time.
“I love you too, but please stop talking because it's not going to make your voice any better,” you scold, taking notice of the growing scratchiness evident in his voice. The irony of having to lecture a doctor about taking care of himself isn't lost on you, but Zayne doesn't seem particularly inclined to listen.
“If you think me losing my voice is somehow going to stop me from saying how much I love you, you're wrong.”
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It was a lazy Sunday, the sounds of birds tweeting and chirping made you sigh in bliss. The afternoon sun shining right on your face making your eyes glow as you laid on Zayne’s chest.
It was perfect; the gentle breeze entering the window, the softness of freshly clean sheets, the slight ache in your body from this morning's activities.
You nuzzled yourself deeper into his chest, his fingers gliding over your back leaving tiny little snowflakes in its path. You glanced up to look at your husband, His face was content, a slight smile on his lips, his eyes closed basking in the sun and wind. For once he was not doing anything in regards to work. No papers that he needed to write, no articles that he had to read, no phone calls he would need to answer. Nothing that could ruin the comforting bubble you found yourself in.
Zayne had an ear bud in his ear and based on the small noise you could hear it was one of his favorite rock bands playing.
You giggled to yourself, he never let himself just enjoy the day anymore. Work taking up too much of his and your time. But you briefly recalled his mild excitement over the news his band released a new album.
Soon you heard a rumble mixed with his beating heart. He was humming, it was soft and low but with your ear on his bare chest it felt like he was purring.
You reached over and grabbed his hip, tangling your legs further as the blanket slowly fell off you. You felt his fingers briefly stop its movements as he opened one eye to look at you.
He smiled and moved his frosted fingers up to your neck and glided over your shoulders.
His humming resumed and the peacefulness of the LI household continued.
