'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
Zayne didn't recall being that rough on you last night, but maybe it was the way your chest rose up and down in that pretty lacey bra framed by the hem of his sweater, or the way your ass bounced with every thrust that made his desk creak that got him all... Distracted.
How could he not be? You just interrupted his late night working hours in his studio, just to tease him under the poor excuse of not feeling well. What he thought to be an illness rapidly becoming a heat wave that spreaded over both of your bodies.
He couldn't help it, it wasn't his intention to mark you (even tho he is not gonna complain about you walking around with his fingerprints decorating your skin) he just wanted to help the poor you struggling to keep yourself up when his cock reached that special spot inside you.
"Come on love, you train so much. Where is my strong hunter, hm?"
He says, like it definitely wasn't his fault that your legs were wobbly after your first orgasm of the night. Still one of you had to keep them upright or else you both would end up in the floor, and he was loving the feeling of your soft skin in his fingers.
Your body is melting against his with each sensation and it definitely doesn't get better when you feel his long fingers rub your clit in motions that make you give up on trying to stay put together.
Your hips just don't know where to go, split between leaning backwards to meet his thrusts in an impossible deeper angle and grinding downwards so you could get that sinful tingle running from where his fingers touched you all over your spine.
Luckily for you, Zayne knows best and he doesn't hesitate to handle your body in the best position for you both. He holds your hips in his hands squeezing the fat between his fingers and keeps your thighs spread open when they try to close the red imprints of his touch unnoticed to him by the hypnotic sight of you under him, too overstimulated to take more or that's what you think.
"I'm starting to think you just got this pliant cause you love being held by me, look at you... Every muscle in your body is responding to me... Even here..." He says trying to appear composed but the lust in his green eyes reveal the truth; he presses softly your lower belly with his palm, adding a sinful pressure that has you moaning while his breath hitches "Y-you respond to me so well... P-pretty cunt molded to my shape" he says, words almost choked with how your walls tighten to him.
A whimper comes out of him when he feels the tale tell pulsing of your walls against him, the coil in his own tummy beginning to snap thread by thread. "Let go for me, please" he begs, as if he wasn't the one mocking you moments ago. "Let me have your pleasure..." A kiss meets your sternum, as if trying to free those perfect sounds you make.
"Let me have your body" another kiss meets your jaw, and you suffocate deliciously in his breath.
"Let me have you, please" he says against your lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he swallows your moans.
And when his prayers come true and that sweet release comes to you, to him, his grip on you is getting stronger, desperate, as if you might disappear if he doesn't hold you close.
His fingers itch when he remembers it, and he has to reread the complete report on his laptop hoping he could get focused again. The memories of each one of your moans, of his name leaving your lips over and over again made him give up, deciding you are not coming out of his mind (although he doesn't put much effort into not thinking about you) he calls it a day and goes to that sacred place you both call home.
After all, you are his goddess, and he is a greddy man who is not ready to get out of heaven.
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
a/n: It all started with: I need someone to write about Zayne being all shy after he notices the red imprints of his fingers in your hips and thighs. And well, here we are.
