zayne's thumb hovers over your name on the screen. he wants to call you, but he's hesitating for a few reasons. it's late, you're probably already asleep, and both of you have just started going out exclusively and seriously. he's not sure if you've reached the stage of your relationship where he can call you in the middle of the night without it being a burden. but he's feeling restless from his shift at the hospital. there's a small sense of comfort that you can bring him just by talking to him, even if it's just for a few minutes.
he presses down on the screen. the line starts to ring. his heart is beating quickly, and he feels guiltier as each ring finishes. he's about to hang up and just leave it be when your voice comes through from the other end, croaky and thick with sleep.
"zayne? hello?"
"sorry," he mutters. "did i wake you?"
"well, yes," you chuckle. "it's almost two in the morning. what's wrong?"
"forget it," he says quickly. "sorry to disturb you. go back to sleep."
"no, it's okay. i'm awake now anyway. what's up?"
silence. zayne is thinking of what to say.
"i just... wanted to hear your voice."
you pause for a moment.
"like... like this?"
he smiles to himself. "yes. just like this."
"tough shift at the hospital?"
"yes."
"well, i'm glad you called me."
"you are?"
"sure. it's nice to know that i'm the first person you thought to call."
his smile grows wider. his shoulders feel lighter, his chest feeling less tight. "thank you," he whispers. "i'll let you go back to sleep."
"are you sure? i don't mind staying on the line a little longer."
“Ugh, I’m so sore,” you groan, massaging the muscles in your thighs. You stretch your legs out on the bed and wiggle your toes. It feels good to be freshly showered and in your pajamas after a long day of learning (and failing) to ski.”I’m so jealous,” you call to Zayne, pouting slightly. “You looked so graceful going down the slopes. I felt like a newborn deer trying to use its legs for the first time.”
“It takes practice,” he chuckles in reply. He’s on the other side of the hotel room, sipping the hot chocolate he had ordered through room service. “And it’s your first time down the slopes, don't be too hard on yourself. Get over here. Your hot chocolate is getting cold.”
You sigh and rise from the bed, and pad over to the small table where your drinks are. You sit down across from him and he slides the mug over to you. Zayne is dressed in his own set of pajamas – you smile to yourself, pleased he had brought them with him on this trip. You had bought them for him on his birthday – they have drawings of cartoon snowmen all over them, and most of them were smiling, but some of them had little frowns. They reminded you of him.
“Your classmates are really nice,” you comment, lifting the mug to your lips. “Thank you for taking me on your class trip with you.”
“They think you’re wonderful,” he murmurs over the rim of his mug. “And rightfully so. But get your rest tonight, because we have another full day of skiing tomorrow.”
You groan again, and he responds with another chuckle. You take a sip of the hot chocolate, but it tastes funny to you. Something’s a little off. You lower the mug, and frown at it.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his own brow furrowing. He leans over, looking at your mug expectantly.
You look at the receipt on the tray that had come with the order. “Oh my god, Zayne,” you breathe, your eyes scanning the little piece of paper. You take another sip of the drink to be sure. “You ordered spiked hot chocolates.” You drink again, then nod. “Yup, there’s definitely some rum in there.”
He immediately places his mug onto the table. It’s almost empty. A red flush spreads across his cheeks. “It’s fine,” he says, but the waver in his voice betrays him. “I’ll–I’ll just have an early night.” He reaches over to the mini fridge from where he’s sitting and takes a bottle of water from it. He twists the cap off hurriedly and downs the entire thing. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. “There. Hydrated. I should be fine,” he repeats.
—
“Mmm, Zayne,” you gasp, as his lips break away from yours. “Baby, slow down. You’re about to eat me alive.”
Zayne stares at you, his pupils dilated, his breathing heavy. His lips are glistening and parted, looking like they’re ready for another kiss. “What if I want to?” he breathes, his voice low. “Would you let me?”
You return his stare, transfixed. Your boyfriend, Zayne, was as innocent as they come when you first met him. You were his first kiss, and even though he is an amazing kisser, you credited yourself for teaching him everything he now knows. You are also his first girlfriend, and you respected that he held back his desires, knowing he hasn’t had his first sexual experience yet. He had asked you several times if you had minded, and you had always told him that you’d be ready when he was ready. In all the months you’ve been dating him, this is the first time he’s ever looked at you in that way. Ravenous. Like he wants to devour you. Something stirs in the pit of your stomach, and you feel your heart beat even faster.
“I think that’s the rum talking,” you whisper, reaching up to caress his cheek.
He huffs in response, then leans down and braces himself against the bed, just hovering over you. His lips meet the skin on your neck, his teeth just grazing over it. He continues to pepper kisses into your neck, going from your jaw, down to your clavicle. You gasp as he pulls down the collar of your pajama top, his kisses making their way down to your chest.
You grab him by his cheeks and hold his face away from you. He stares at you again through glazed eyes.
“Zayne,” you try to say as firmly as you can, but your own resolve is faltering. “You’re drunk. You’re not in the right frame of mind.”
He bucks his hips slowly into yours, and you gasp again, feeling his bulge nudge into you. “I know what I want,” he murmurs, the slur in his voice disappearing momentarily. He leans over the edge of the bed and into his overnight bag, and produces a bottle of lubricant and a box of condoms. Your eyes flick back and forth between his face and the contents of his hands. He smirks at you as he straddles you. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like you to be my teacher,” he says, leaning down again. “Like I was your teacher on the slopes today.”
You swallow, and steady your breathing before you reply. “Okay,” you tell him. “I see you came prepared. We can give it a try.”
With that, he goes in for another kiss – hot, heavy breaths are exchanged between you, as his hands start to wander around your body. His fingers begin to undo the buttons on your pajama top, and you do the same to his.
“Tell me what to do,” he breathes between kisses. “I need you to tell me.”
“Clothes off,” you instruct, desperate to feel his skin against yours. “Everything off.”
You tear his top off of him and toss it over the edge of the bed. He’s already grinding down into you, unable to stop his hips from moving. His hands work swiftly to remove your top, and he tosses it over his shoulder. He looks down at you, eyes wide, panting. Your hands are on his bare chest, fingers, flittering over his muscles.
“What?” you ask, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze.
“You’re… so beautiful,” he mutters, before going in for more kissing. He groans against your lips and it devolves into an almost-whine. “I need you. I need you right now.”
“Check if I’m wet,” you tell him, going back to instructor mode. “You have to make sure that I’m ready for you.”
“How?” he asks earnestly. The desperation in his voice makes you want him even more.
You take his hand and guide his fingers down into your pajama bottoms. You’re not wearing any underwear, so you direct his fingers straight to your entrance. You slide them up and down your slit, covering them in your slick.
“Feel that?” you whisper, continuing in your motions. He nods in reply. “Now take your middle finger and just slide it in me.”
The squelching you hear is almost obscene, and you gasp as he inserts his finger into you. You clench around him, and he groans again, his hand instantly covered in your juices.
“That means I’m ready,” you continue, bucking your hips up. “Now take my pants off.”
He does as he’s told and peels them off of you. He looks down again at you, now completely naked, his own pants tenting.
You lock eyes with him. “Are you ready?” He nods. “Take your pants off.”
He obeys, and soon you’re face to face with his erection, precum dribbling out of his pink tip. You gently grasp it and he whines, his entire body shuddering.
“I’ll help you put this on,” you tell him, reaching for the condoms. You tear the box open, and then rip a packet open. You slide it down onto him, and his entire body reacts, shuddering involuntarily.
“Fuck,” he gasps, falling onto the bed, bracing himself with his hands. The slightest touch from you has him falling apart.
“Just take your time,” you assure him, squeezing his forearms gently. You rest your head on the pillow, adjusting yourself on the bed. “Don’t rush. I want you to enjoy yourself.”
Zayne takes a few moments to collect himself, taking deep breaths, his chest heaving up and down. The sheets underneath his hands are balled into his fists, and he whimpers incoherently as he opens and closes his them.
“Okay,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Keep going.”
You keep your hands on his arms. “Do you want to be inside me now?” He nods again. “We’ll go slowly.”
You reach for the bottle of lube that was discarded to the other side of the bed and hand it over to him. He pops the lid open, and squeezes its contents into his palm. He eyes you for approval, and you nod in encouragement as he spreads it over himself. You guide his shaft to your entrance, lining him up. His entire body is tense, and his cock twitches in response to your touch. You moan as you slide his tip up and down your slit, then you insert him slightly into you, which elicits another whimper from him.
“Push yourself in when you’re ready. But go slowly.”
He does as you instruct. “Fuck,” he says in a drawn out sigh. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and you can feel him breathing hard against your skin. The man is already pussy drunk. You can tell it won’t take long for him to come.
“Move when you’re ready.”
With that, he starts rocking his hips, thrusting in and out of you clumsily. His movements are adorably awkward, but he’s doing well for his first time. He feels so damn good.
You wrap your arms around his neck, whispering encouragement into his ear. “That’s it, Baby. Keep going. You’re doing so well.”
He whines into your neck as his hips start to move faster, his thrusting starting to become more jerky. He’s close.
“Oh god, oh god,” he pants. His chest is pressed up against yours, and you can feel his entire body starting to go tense. You grip his biceps as the entire bed shakes. Your own moans mix in with his grunts as he continues to pump in and out of you. His movements become more erratic, signalling that he’s close to finishing.
“I’m–I’m–I’m–” he blabbers before thrusting one final time into you. He’s already beyond words. His entire body goes stiff and you feel his cock twitch inside of you, before he collapses onto you. His face is still in your neck. He's whimpering something incomprehensible to you, and you feel your skin start to become damp. Is he crying?
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he whines. “You just felt too good. I couldn't stop myself.”
“Hey, it's okay,” you tell him, stroking his hair. “Don't be sorry. You finishing fast was… kind of… hot…”
He sniffles before pushing himself up from you. You pull gently on the hair at the scruff of his neck, and he leans into your touch like a needy puppy.
“Really?” he asks, his eyes glistening. His cheeks are still flushed, and a sheen of sweat covers his brow.
“Mm-hm.”
He hesitates before asking his next question, looking down sheepishly. “Did you… you know…”
You shake your head. “No. But it's okay.”
Zayne's mouth opens, then closes as he thinks of how to respond. “Let me take care of you,” he says firmly, positioning himself over you again. “Please? Just tell me what to do.”
That's the second time he's said that tonight. You grin at him, enjoying the way his eyes light up eagerly as your hand tightens around the back of his neck. He pulls out of you gingerly and slowly, as if he still wants to stay inside of you.
“Use your mouth,” you order as you guide his head back down. “Just like I taught you how to kiss. But don’t bite – no teeth,” you add, as you remember how much he likes to bite down on your lower lip when you make out.
He does as you order, pushing your legs open with his hands. He places his lips straight onto you with some force, drawing a surprised gasp from you.
“Slowly, slowly,” you tell him, fingers locking into his hair. You direct him to your clit, and you feel his tongue slide gently up and down it. You moan and buck your hips up, into his mouth, and he looks up at you through his lashes, that twinkle still in his eye.
“Use your tongue. Small circles. N-now suck… ngh… Yes…”
“Two fingers. Inside. Yeah, the middle and the ring. And just-just curl–oh, god–keep-keep going..”
You let your words devolve into moans as he picks things up quickly. He keeps looking up at you momentarily, watching your expressions as you would go in between tossing your head back onto the pillow, and locking eyes with him.
“Yes, so good,” you gasp. “Keep going. I’m almost there. Don’t change anything.”
He heeds your instructions, continuingly exactly what he’s doing. You feel your core tighten, and your thighs start to tense.
“Yes, yes,” you repeat, pushing his head down. “Fuck, Zayne, I’m coming!”
You release onto his mouth and onto his fingers, but he continues to eat you out through your orgasm. Soon, your legs are trembling and shaking, and you have to pull him off of you. You stare at each other, both of you panting heavily, his mouth and chin covered in your juices.
“Did I do good?” he manages to ask after a few moments. He makes his way back up to you, face hovering over yours.
“So good,” you tell him, pulling him down towards you so you can kiss him. “Not bad for your first time.”
—
You run your fingers through Zayne’s hair as he lays on your chest, his arm draped across you. His entire body is relaxed, but you can’t tell if he’s asleep yet. Poor thing must be tired. Your hand moves to trace small concentric circles in the middle of his shoulder blades. He stirs slightly, reacting to your touch.
“I have a confession,” he says suddenly, and you’re instantly more alert.
“Hm?”
“I knew I was ordering spiked hot chocolate.”
“Hm.” You slap his bare back teasingly, then sigh. “A little bit of liquid courage, huh?”
“Yes.”
He moves his head to look up at you, a sly grin playing on the corners of his lips. “Get some rest. In the morning, I’m taking you down the slopes again. And then in the afternoon, we’ll head back here where you get to be the instructor. Sound like a good trade?”
You laugh and slap at his cheek playfully. “Sure, sounds good.”
sitting on zayne's lap while he reads one of his research papers out to you... kissing him up and down his neck and chest, grinding down on him while he tries to keep his voice steady, one hand holding the paper while the other grips you by the hip... you pulling away momentarily once in a while to ask him to clarify something, and he blinks, looks at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks and stammers out a barely coherent explanation before you nod and your lips find their way to his skin again...
you, a demigod that doesn't reincarnate, just pass your mantle on from body to body, never losing your memories, befriends zayne in every single one of his incarnations - he doesn't remember you but somehow finds you in every timeline. you know he's cursed never to be able to be with his one true love. you watch him lose her over and over again, watching his curse play out in every incarnation. you try to provide him with your company and friendship whenever this happens, because you know how lonely it is to keep losing everyone around you while you continue to live on. zayne is the closest thing you have to a friend.
you bargain with astra, offer to take zayne's place and take his curse. because zayne has something, everything to lose, while you have nothing. somehow, astra agrees, and releases zayne, while you carry out astra's work. you finally get to watch zayne grow old with his beloved, not knowing what you sacrificed for him. it's your sole act of benevolence. you befriend both of them in one life after another, just content seeing them finally together.
one day, while you're spending time with him, zayne just randomly thanks you out of the blue. "what for?" you ask. "sacrifice is the greatest form of love," he says looking straight at you, then adds, "whatever that means," and goes about whatever he's doing. you sit there, stunned, thinking you saw a glimpse of one of his past incarnations take over, ever so briefly.
You sweep your arm across the space in the bed next to you. It's empty. The sheets are still slightly warm, indicating that he had just recently left the bed.
You sit up, trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes. Where is he?
The cabin you have rented for the weekend is dark and quiet. No signs of life to be seen or heard. You step out of bed carefully onto the wooden floor. The floorboards creak underneath your weight. You shuffle across the room and head out to the hallway. You strain your ears, listening for movement.
"Zayne, are you there?"
Nothing. You make your way around the cabin in the dark, your heart starting to beat faster. Where did he go?
You find yourself at the main entrance of the cabin - a sliding door leading out to an open-air wooden deck. You see Zayne sitting at the edge of the deck, his neck craned upwards, his gaze on the skies above. You step out towards him, trying to avoid disturbing him.
"Zayne," you half-whisper, hoping he doesn't get startled. He glances behind, and meets your eyes, giving you a sheepish smile.
"Sorry," he tells you, as you sit down next to him. "I'm not used to being asleep at this time. I thought I'd head out and get some fresh air."
You nod as you stifle a yawn. You lean against him, your shoulders touching. You look upwards to the sky as well, joining him in his stargazing.
"Wow." The breath that escapes your mouth comes out as mist. Above you are countless stars, splattered across an inky sky. You marvel at the sight, knowing you wouldn't be able to get a view like this back in the city.
It's another few moments before you feel the chill settle on your skin. You tremble involuntarily, and Zayne places a hand on your knee, squeezing it gently.
"Go inside," he coaxes you. "It's freezing. I'll join you in bed soon."
You rise from where you're sitting, almost regretful that you have to leave him. Then, an idea sparks within you.
---
Zayne is still staring up at the sky when he hears the sliding door open again. He sighs, resigning himself to head back in, when he sees a pile of blankets and pillows at the door. He blinks. Once, twice. The pile moves towards him. You release the pile, the pillows and blankets scattering across the deck. You had grabbed every single soft thing you could find in the cabin, and had brought it out to the deck.
"What are you doing?" Zayne asks, puzzled.
You wink at him. "Help me make the pillow fort. It's too nice of a night to stay inside."
Zayne chuckles, deciding to entertain your idea of the fort. Soon, there is a nest of bedding in the middle of the deck, and both you and Zayne admire it.
"Not bad, Doctor Zayne," you tell him, patting his arm. "You make a pretty good fort."
Zayne stares at the nest, then looks back at you. "What now?"
You raise an eyebrow at him. "Well, we get in it, of course!"
---
You can't help but sigh in contentment. The chill nips at your nose and cheeks, but you're wrapped up in a warm blanket, which you are sharing with Zayne. He has one arm wrapped around you, and your head is nestled into his shoulder. You're both surrounded by pillows, your heads propped up comfortably by a couple of them.
He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze. "Thank you. This... this is nice."
You stay silent, enjoying the stillness of the night. You look up at the sky, still stunned at the beauty of the stars. You see a small streak of light flash across the sky, and you can't help but gasp.
"Look, a shooting star! Quick, Zayne, make a wish!"
But Zayne isn't looking at the sky. His eyes are fixed on you. He presses his lips against the top of your head and whispers against your hair.
you breaking a bone and being under anesthesia while they set it at the hospital... zayne comes in and checks in on you as you're coming out of it, making sure you're okay and that you can see a familiar face. him checking your chart when you turn to him, slurring, "oh my god. did i die? am i in heaven? are you an angel?" and him blinking at you replying, "no, darling, i'm your boyfriend," and you yell, "MY BOYFRIEND?!? fuck YEAH you're MY BOYFRIEND," then him trying to shush you and telling you to use your indoor voice while the nurses outside your room are laughing their asses off
zayne picking you up after work and driving you home, but you're exhausted so you ask him if you can take a nap while he drives and he says "of course." you have one hand reaching over the console of the car on his knee and he holds it, while his other hand is on the steering wheel. the drive doesn't take that long, but he looks over to you and sees how deep you are in sleep, so he decides to take little detours, turning into random side streets to make it longer so you can nap a little bit more. he holds your hand as he continues to drive, sneaking glances at you because he thinks you look adorable, napping with your mouth slightly open, snoring lightly.
thinking about zayne growing out his facial hair for akso hospital's movember event and all of the staff placing bets on whether or not he can keep at it for the whole month or if he shaves it off prematurely. at first you hate the stubble, but after a week, you actually think that it starts to look good, and you even end up helping him style it in the mornings (plus you LOVE the way it feels on your skin when he goes down on you–OOP)
by the last week of movember, you're already mourning the oncoming loss. you beg him to consider keeping it until the end of the year and telling him he can shave it off for the new year (he laughs and says he'll think about it). he ends up winning an award for the 'best-looking mo', and those who won their bets donate their winnings to charity.
december 1 rolls around and you end up sleeping in. zayne is already awake and shaving his beautiful facial hair off. you wail, tell him that it's unfair that he didn't even let you say goodbye to it, but then he convinces you to help him shave. you grumble, but agree, and find yourself stroking his smooth skin once all the hair is gone. this leads to your cheek rubbing up against his – you had forgotten how much you loved his clean shaven face.
"see? isn't this much better? nice and smooth."
hmph... whatever... i'm already counting down the days to next november...
