Skin Worship
summary: it only takes a satin backless dress, to completely capture zayne's desires.
tags: back kink, scent kink, skin worship, back worship, zayne is basically obsessed with her back and her scent
words count: 1,734k
ao3 link 🔗
She could feel his eyes on her — an intense, almost burning sensation.
She had felt them on her all evening, during a formal business dinner like so many others, where she had accompanied Zayne.
He always looked at her as if she were the most beautiful thing in the room; nothing new, though always pleasant. But something about that night was different.
She had sensed it even earlier, as they were getting ready to go out, when she had asked him to help her fasten her dress.
He had been unusually slow as he pulled up the small zipper, one hand holding the fabric steady against her back while the other dealt with the zip, almost as if savoring the gesture.
Then, once done, his fingers had brushed her back delicately.
"I don’t remember ever seeing you wear this before — I take it it’s new?"
He had asked, running his fingertips over the fabric.
"Actually, I’ve had it for a while, but I never found the right occasion to wear it, so it ended up at the back of the closet. I came across it a few days ago while I was sorting clothes."
He nodded softly, tracing the lines of the dress.
"Silk?"
She shook her head with a smile, feeling his fingers follow her curves.
"Satin — a much cheaper alternative. But I think it works for tonight, don’t you?"
He couldn’t possibly have said otherwise, even if he’d wanted to.
She wore a long wine-colored satin gown — elegant yet simple, minimalist.
The front had a high square neckline and thin straps.
The material clung gently to her figure, accentuated by a golden chain worn as a low belt on her hips.
His gaze lingered on the back — a deep inverted V-neckline that reached the small of her back, with a soft drape.
He could see the delicate dip of her shoulder blades and spine — a perfect line.
Perfect.
She noticed his intense stare, as if he were lost somewhere far away, and looked at him with a playful laugh.
"Everything all right, Doctor?"
He cleared his throat immediately, regaining his usual stoic, composed expression — though his voice faltered for a second.
"Of course. Are you ready, or do you still need to fix something?"
She picked up the clutch she used for such elegant occasions, quickly adjusted her hair in the mirror, then took Zayne’s arm, ready to leave.
"I didn’t know you wanted to match my dress."
"I don’t, actually. If I’d known earlier what dress you were going to wear, I might have coordinated my outfit with yours."
"I wasn’t talking about your clothes."
"What do you mean?"
"I was talking about the color of your cheeks and the tips of your ears."
The rest of the evening went on as it usually did at those dinners — chatting with familiar faces, being introduced to new guests, making a toast with their wine glasses, sampling whatever delicacies the waiters brought around the room.
He wasn’t a fan of such events, but every now and then it was necessary for him to attend — especially when it came to charity evenings for associations affiliated with Akso Hospital, or when distinguished doctors visited from other parts of the continent.
And, more pleasantly, he got to see her in a new guise… quite literally.
She always chose dresses that were relatively simple yet elegant, that highlighted her figure in just the right places — but she had never worn one with such a daring backline.
He hadn’t known he needed to see it until that night.
During dinner, he looked for almost every excuse to touch her gently at that spot where her skin was bare, sometimes feeling her flinch slightly with a shiver.
He wondered if it was because of his “cold” touch, a side effect of his Evol — or if it was because it was his touch that made her react that way.
Any excuse was a good one to rest his hand there.
Did someone need to pass by?
He would guide her aside with a hand on her back.
Did he need to introduce her to someone?
He’d get her attention with a soft touch on her back.
Did he want to whisper something in her ear?
He would draw her close with a hand on her back.
For a few moments that evening, his mind wandered, even during conversations with other guests, wondering if he would be able to make it through the night without giving in to that warm feeling that lingered deep in his gut.
But he would wait—once they were back home.
A few hours later, after a short drive, they returned home, happy to finally enjoy a moment of peace.
With a sigh, she slipped off her shoes and sank into the living room couch.
"Good thing you brought a spare pair of shoes, I was going crazy with those heels."
"I always keep a pair in the car for emergencies, you know that. Do you need a band-aid?"
She shook her head, massaging the back of her ankle.
"No, it’s fine, it’s just a little sore. It’ll be gone by tomorrow."
Meanwhile, he loosened his tie and set water on the stove for tea, as was their ritual before bed.
"I’m going to get changed for a minute. Can you put the usual sugar in my cup?"
Zayne nodded, taking their matching mugs—hers red, his white—and putting two spoonfuls of sugar in hers.
After waiting a few minutes, just as the water began to boil, he turned off the heat and was about to pour it into the mugs when a voice called from the bedroom.
"Zayne…?"
He immediately looked up in her direction.
"What is it?"
"I think I need help with my dress zipper… it must have gotten stuck."
He left the pot on the stove and followed her voice into the bedroom, finding her standing near the bed, struggling to pull the zipper down.
"I thought I could manage on my own, but I think it’s caught on the fabric…"
He stepped toward her right away, gently moving her hand aside to get a closer look.
"Mhm… looks like it."
"Can you try to fix it?"
"Something tells me you only called me over to take advantage of my surgeon’s hands."
"You’re definitely more skilled than I am at handling small, delicate things without damaging them."
"In more ways than one, actually."
She smiled, catching the double meaning, and turned her back to him more fully.
Zayne focused on the zipper, leaning in slightly, carefully and precisely working to free the satin fabric without tearing it.
In doing so, he found himself just inches from her back, surrounded by the scent of jasmine and hints of date and pear—the perfume he had given her long ago—that still lingered on her skin.
The dim light in the room highlighted the silkiness of her skin, the small moles scattered across it like constellations.
He suddenly caught himself holding his breath, intoxicated by the sight of the part of her only he was allowed to touch.
As if his body had moved of its own accord, he bent closer to her nape, inhaling her scent softly.
She drew in a silent breath, surprised by the gesture, and glanced back over her shoulder.
"Zayne…"
He didn’t answer, instead tracing the beginning of her spine with his nose and lips, following her fragrance.
Her skin under his touch was soft and delicate, and with his fingers, he kept working at the zipper, stuck at the end of the neckline, just above her hips.
She let out another shuddering breath as she suddenly felt a small kiss on her spine, at the height of her shoulder blades.
"Did you… did you fix it?"
He replied with a simple "mh-h" while his lips continued tracing the dip of her back.
He had wanted to do that ever since before they left for the dinner—ever since he had helped her into that dress hours earlier.
But maybe he wouldn’t settle for just that.
He couldn’t… he didn’t want to.
With a gentle touch, he finally freed the zipper, pulling it down so that part of the dress loosened against her, ready to be removed.
"Thanks… I can take it from here."
She replied, trying to hide the flush rising to her cheeks, but he stopped her with a gentle yet firm motion.
"Let me handle this. Quitting halfway isn’t something I do."
Without protest, she turned her head forward again, leaving him before his blank canvas.
Delicately, he slipped the straps of the dress down her shoulders. His pupils widened slightly at the sight, and he swallowed to steady himself.
His lips returned softly to her back, continuing where he had left off.
The sweet scent she wore was almost hypnotic, intoxicating his mind—already slightly clouded by the suppressed desire from earlier that evening and by the sight before him.
Slowly, he let his tongue glide along the dip of her spine, while gently letting the dress fall to the floor, pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her underwear before him.
He traced her shoulder blades with his fingertips, the muscles beneath flexing involuntarily at his touch as she sighed at the sensation.
He was always tender and physically affectionate with her, but something about that night felt different, as though something in him had shifted.
His fingers replaced his lips, slowly tracing down her spine to its base, while he gently nuzzled the crook of her neck and her nape, moving her hair aside to place a soft kiss there.
"I hope tonight’s dress won’t end up lost in the depths of your wardrobe again."
"Expecting more galas anytime soon?"
"Why wait, when we can have an elegant dinner right here, just the two of us?"
A playful nibble on her shoulder made her turn with a slight gasp, her eyes searching for his in the dim light.
"Zayne… the tea—"
He smiled, leaning in again to kiss her neck softly, while one hand gently gripped her waist and the other traced light patterns on the bare skin of her back.
"The tea can wait. We can always heat more water. But there are other matters… ones that have been waiting to be taken care of since beginning of this evening."
thanks for reading! comments and repost are always much appreciated (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ