Cross The Line- Z.K (18+)
Warnings: through the clothes shenanigans, heavy kissing, oral (f and m receiving) , Z being soft
You hate parties. You always have, always will- and Zion knows that better than anyone. He can see the dejection written all over that soft, familiar face of yours, annoyance hidden between the tight furrow of your brows.
His breath is warm against your ear, and you shiver against his side as you begin to feel increasingly tempted to burrow yourself in his hoodie altogether.
“Too many people here, huh?”
“Yeah, and I’m cold.” You scowl, a chuckle falling from his plump lips as he throws a long, heavy arm around your slumped shoulders, pressing you closer to the heat of his body.
You rest your head against his shoulder, and the smell of cologne brings you comfort, along with the scent of dryer sheets- the snuggle ones specifically, he refuses to use anything else. You love him more for it.
“Finally.”
Your eyes threaten to close, just before you hear his voice, the octave low enough to send vibrations through his chest, the sensation causing a stir in your belly.
You push the wandering thought to the back of your mind as a hoard of people begin moving towards the small leather couch you and Zion are sat on, a blunt resting snugly between the fingers of the party’s host.
“C'mere mama.”
Strong hands gently grip the small of your waist, your feet moving faster than your brain as you find yourself sitting atop Zions firm thighs, his broad chest pressed against your back.
It’s not like you two have never been in this position before, its normal. You’re best friends. For three years, it’s been like this.
Still, something feels off. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but it isn’t like Zion to have his arm locked protectively around your middle in front of all these people, as if he isnt even the least bit scared of anyone seeing.
As if he wants them to see.
The blunt is passed to you before him, and you notice a slight shake to your wrist as you bring it to your lips, inhaling and allowing the smoke to enter your lungs before you turn to the side just slightly- giving it to Zion, who’s honey coloured eyes are locked onto you like this is the first time he’s ever seen you.
It’s the weed, it has to be, right?
Now it’s you who is watching him, as his eyes close ever so slowly while he takes a puff, letting the smoke billow from his mouth and into his nose.
You almost forget that it’s a party, the noise and chatter sounding as if it’s distant, further away than in the room, surrounding you both.
You take a deep breath, turning around to face away from his penetrative gaze as your fingers dig into the meat of his thighs through the material of his jeans, your hips wiggling only slightly as you attempt to get comfortable.
He hums, you feel it, and his grip on you tightens just a tiny bit, not enough for anyone else to notice, but definitely enough for you to.
In fact, that’s not the only thing you notice.
You know that he knows you know, especially when you suddenly stiffen in his arms, your heartbeat practically echoing in your ears as your pulse pounds beneath your skin.
“You alright?”
You gasp only loud enough for him to hear, chills rising across the surface of your skin as you turn in his grasp to face him at a more comfortable angle, your tongue darting out to lick your lips.
“You’re hard, Z.”
Fuck. You make it so damn difficult when you look at him like that. With this slight wonder, curiosity even, with a hint of shock. Yet, even so, he can feel the way you are squeezing your thighs together, attempting to relieve the building pressure between them. He twitches inside his briefs.
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
Your heart skips a beat, the need to reassure him that you are far from uncomfortable, almost unbearable. You ignore his question.
“Can we go somewhere, Caleb?”
He’ll never get over how you saying his first name makes him feel. It’s silly, he usually hates it. Even so, it’s just a first name, nothing special. But you somehow turn it into something magical. He wants to hear you say it all day.
His hand nearly swallows yours whole with its size, his palms soft, fingers gentle as they wrap around your wrist. He’s fast, long legs moving through crowds of intoxicated people swiftly as you trail behind him, free hand gripping the back of his hoodie.
He fumbles horribly when trying to open the door to an empty bedroom, but he does get it open, and upon entering- your lips find his within the first three seconds.
He cups your cheeks in his wide palms, your fingers pushing his dreads out from in front of his face as his tongue skims your bottom lip. You moan into his mouth, and he grips your hips with enough force to further elicit those sweet sounds he already adores so much.
And then you stop.
You look like you’ve just run a marathon, overwhelmed and taking deep, controlled breaths that seem to have spurred from the realization that you just kissed your best friend of three years.
His heart starts to ache, stomach turning with anxiety. Say something. Anything. He thinks to himself.
“I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry Zion.”
His eyebrows furrow together, fingers clasping around your wrist as you cradle your face in your palms.
“Sorry? For what, angel?”
His voice is soft, and the anxiety that had previously been rising in your throat, settles somewhat as you look up at his soft, familiar features. You want to kiss him again.
“I- well, I kissed you.” You state, his topaz colored eyes becoming increasingly dark as he closes the space between your bodies, face held in his hands.
“Yeah, why’d you stop?” Your belly turns at his voices drop in octave, the tension in the air thick and palpable, both of you clearly hot and bothered. Your skin prickles with adrenaline and need, and judging by the way his obsidian pupils are blown out, he’s feeling the same way.
“I- well I didn’t know you wanted me to kiss you.”
He laughs, a genuine, jovial sound filling the space between you as his thumb tenderly swipes the apple of your cheek.
“How could you ever think that?”
He sounds breathless, his plush, tempting mouth only inches away from yours as your noses meet, grazing each other in the pursuit of something more.
Without inhibition, Zion kisses you this time, both of you still and absorbing the impact of such a delicate, yet fever inducing kiss that causes you both to hum in satisfaction.
Not an inch is left between you, it seems like, when you two are body to body, hands feeling all the places that you’ve never gotten to touch, but have always admired.
Your clothes suddenly feel too tight, especially when every nerve in your body is telling you that you to be touched. Not just by anyone though, by him.
His tongue is soft and wet against the roof of your mouth, your fingers locked around the nape of his neck as he places you onto the soft mattress by the back of your thighs.
“Can I please-mmm- taste you?”
He speaks between slow, drawn out kisses, and you feel a pool of wetness gathering between your legs, no doubt evident through your underwear, if he were to look.
You want him to look.
You know that this is most definitely what you want, you’re aching for it by now, but the weed still makes you bolder than you actually are, which isn’t so bad right about now. Sober you would be overthinking to the point of physical tears, especially since this is Zion, your Zion, going down on you.
But you take one look at him, into those gentle eyes that sometimes seem warmer than the sun, and you know that you’d trust him with your life. He is home in so many ways.
“Yes, Caleb. Yes.”
He feels himself harden to an uncomfortable point inside his jeans, that are suddenly suffocating him. All he can think about is you. How you taste, how you feel, how you’re gonna sound when he’s in between your legs. Fuck. It feels surreal.
He lavishes your skin in sloppy, sweet kisses from the curve of your jaw, to the dip of your shoulder, too eager to finally to taste you to worry about stripping you of your clothes completely- however, he still savors the way your breasts feel in his large palms as he slips his hands underneath your sweater.
Of course you aren’t wearing a bra.
While your chest misses the warmth of his touch, your belly fills with heat as you feel his long dexterous fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your bottoms, as well as your underwear.
You are bare in front of him with not even a second to process it before you feel him gripping your calves, lifting them onto his broad shoulders as he pulls you to the edge of the bed.
You are shocked, for one, at the fact that your bestfriend has his head between your legs, eating you like you’re his last meal- but most of all, you’re shocked at how good he is at it.
Of course you know he isn’t a virgin, in most categories, which strangely causes you great discomfort to even think about- but the point is that of course Zion is good at giving head, he’s Zion, but you didn’t expect to be holding back an orgasm so soon.
Your fingers find his hair as his tongue laps at the wetness leaking from you, his plush lips wrapping around your swollen clit. You are so far gone already that you know you won’t last long, and a little part of Zion gets off on way you’re whimpering for him.
“Oh-Oh fuck, feels s-so good Z.”
This spurs him on further, his hunger only increasing as you attempt to clamp your thighs shut- and suddenly, you feel two of his thick fingers curving up inside of you, massaging your sweet spot.
“You’re so pretty baby.” He professes between self indulgent licks.
He doesn’t even realize he’s bucking his hips into the mattress until he has to stop to prevent himself from cumming too soon, both of you clearly overwhelmed and just as worked up as the other. You taste better than he could have ever anticipated.
And when you do finally let go, he swears it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever gotten to see.
Your body stiffens, back arching up and off of the bed as a silent cry falls from your lips, your fingers clawing at his broad shoulders as he continues to flick his soft tongue against your clit.
He works you through your high like this, but the oversensitivity is almost unbearably blissful, and you know that you won’t be able to handle it right now.
You pull him to your mouth before he can think about trying to give you another orgasm, because this is the same Zion who ended up binge watching three whole seasons of Grey’s Anatomy in two nights simply because you bet him he couldn’t, and you are visibly eager to finally touch him too.
You taste yourself on his lips, and the eroticism of it all makes your skin burn even hotter than it already is.
“Your turn.”
Your voice is soft, and he happily complies as your small hands push at his chest, thighs straddling his trim waist as you climb on top of him.
He lets his head fall back against the soft pile of pillows, eyes threatening to close shut as you kiss the curve of his jaw and across his throat, before he feels your fingers undoing the button of his jeans, your eyes hooded with lust- lips pink from how many times you’ve bitten them.
He watches as you pull his bottoms off, the way your entire expression seems to light up with shock and unbridled desire, his dick bobbing in the air as precum leaks from his throbbing, rosy tip.
The moment your hand wraps around him, he twitches. It’s not like he’s never felt a hand on his dick before that isn’t his own. But it’s your hand, small in comparison to his large ones, soft and gentle.
“I don’t think I can fit you, Z.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“It’s okay mamas, you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.”
His throat is dry but he still manages to speak, thumb stroking your cheek. You swear you feel your entire universe shift as you look up at him from between his thighs, an unbridled need to make him feel good, consuming you completely.
“I’ll just lick it until you cum in my mouth.”
He lets out a long, drawn out groan- not just at the feeling of your soft, plush lips kissing the head of his painfully hard dick, but also at how filthy and utterly ethereal you seem to be at the same time.
In fact, he can’t seem to remember anyone else other than you, and this moment. All he can see is you, all he can feel is you. All he wants is you.
He looks down to see the tip of his dick disappearing into the warmth of your mouth, and props himself up on his elbows so he can move your hair out from in front of your face while you work, both hands wrapped around his thick length.
He knows he’s done for when you moan around him, his eyes flickering over your figure to see one of your hands between your legs. Fuck you’re getting off to this, he can hear how wet you are.
“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”
Your tongue circles around him, and flicks the underside of his frenulum, hand pumping the rest of what you can’t reach. Your lashes flutter against your brow bone as you peer up at him, making eye contact. He feels his whole body tremor.
You know that the way Zion looks and sounds as he releases, is going to stick with you forever. The way every muscle in his body seems to flex, veins bulging from his inked forearms, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed in a moment of bliss.
Not to mention the way your name falls from his tongue like a mantra as you swallow every drop of what he spills, his hands cupping your cheeks with him still in your mouth. Knowing you can’t take him all the way only makes coming down from such an intense orgasm, harder. No pun intended.
There’s only a few moments of silence that pass, save the pants and heavy breathing as you both cool off, before he is pulling you onto his lap and kissing you as if he might never get the chance again.
Your flavors mix together, and neither one of you complain about it as you throw your arms around his shoulders, letting yourself cherish each and every moment his lips are on yours. You almost feel tears well up in your eyes as he pulls away.
He looks breathtaking like this, flushed with a slight sheen of sweat coating his pretty face. You reach out to stroke his cheek, and the words seem to fall from his lips without a second thought.
“We can’t go back. To the way things were. I-I don’t want to. And not just sex either-I know you’ve been around for a lot and you’ve seen me do things with girls I’m not proud of but I-”
You shut him up with a kiss that makes his insides do flips, everything he has ever wanted, right here in his arms. You know him, through and through. The mistakes he’s made, the person he has grown to be in such a short time.
“Me too, Caleb.” You nearly whisper back.
You’ve always been his.
