truly, madly, deeply ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 5.3k words ✧.* friends to lovers summary: zayne loses control warnings!: needy, pathetic!zayne, first time smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, creampie, zayne cums in his pants again???, zayne isn't a sub but...the potential is there note: intended as a sequel to exclusive tutorial
divider cred. @enchanthings-a
It’s been three days since you left his apartment and Zayne can still smell your perfume clinging to the space around him.
After you fell asleep on his chest, he’d carried you to his bedroom and left you alone to sleep, not wanting to wake you for fear you might leave and the whole night would crumble. He imagined waking up, face smushed against the papers on his desk back at the hospital, the evening of you trembling in his arms, coming on his fingers, gone from existence.
It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.
He had taken the couch, worried he might overwhelm or spook you if he got into bed with you after everything that had happened. There was no way you weren’t gonna end up in his arms, his hips grinding his dick into your ass the moment his body woke him up. He had to regain some semblance of control, and so, he’d slept on the sofa. When he woke up to a call telling him he had to get to the hospital for an emergency surgery, he’d poked his head through the doorway to his room and found you sleeping soundly, his blankets twisted around your bare legs. He’d smiled, relieved, and had left you a note. By the time he got back six hours later, you’d left, and his note sat exactly where he’d left it on the pillow in his room.
He tried not to spiral, he really did, but it didn’t take long for the old thoughts to creep in. You don’t deserve her, you’ve ruined your friendship by mauling her last night, now she doesn’t want to speak to you. He’d spent the last three days worried he had pushed you too fast that night; he had meant to teach you how to kiss, goddamnit, not lose himself in you. He’s like an addict where you’re concerned, and he worries he won’t be able to return to any sense of normalcy now that he knows how you sound when you come. The way you’d whimpered his name has been the soundtrack to his life every day since, and now, as he shrugs off his jacket in the hallway of yours and Caleb’s grandma’s home, he is itching to see you again.
“Zaynie, you’re here,” A small, white-haired woman walks through the archway and grabs Zayne’s hand, smiling up at him before reaching up to pat him on the cheek, “You’re too skinny. You need to eat more,”
He smiles down at her indulgently, “I’ll be sure to do that, granny,”
“Good,” She sniffs, letting her arm hang off the crook of his elbow and dragging him through to the living room, “Caleb is already here. Dinner will be ready soon, once ___ is here we can eat. Where is that girl?”
Zayne let’s Granny wander through to the kitchen, muttering to herself, and walks over to the sofa opposite Caleb, who watches him with a familiarly blank expression. Zayne isn’t sure when the two of them went from friends to…whatever they are now, but he does know that they’ve grown to tolerate each other for your sake, and Granny’s.
He feels uneasy under Caleb’s eyes, as if he knows every little secret - as if he knows about what he did to you the other night. He wonders with a faint sense of alarm whether you would have told him, but he doubts it. Even so, he busies himself looking at his phone to avoid Caleb’s assessing stare.
Dinner is painfully awkward, and you can’t even bring yourself to look around the table. Just being in Zayne’s presence puts you on edge, his eyes trailing over your form as if he is touching you.
When you’d walked into granny’s house, you had immediately sensed Zayne was already here. Walking into the living room just to see him sitting there, one long leg propped on his knee, his black shirt stretching over the same broad shoulders you’d dug your fingernails into as you’d rocked in his lap the other night. A shiver works its way through you at the memory, and Caleb leans over.
“Cold?”
You look up only to immediately lock eyes with Zayne for half a second, darting them towards Caleb instead, a stiff smile on your face, “No, I’m okay,” you say, but your gaze is soon magnetised to the man opposite you once again.
Zayne doesn’t take his eyes off you, chewing his food slowly. His ears are pink, and you wonder briefly if he’s thinking of that night. You wonder if he’s mad you left, and that you haven’t returned any of his texts, but your worries are washed away when you remember that Zayne doesn’t get mad. At least he never has with you, but maybe now it’s different.
You really hadn’t meant to leave him hanging - that night had been such a whirlwind you’d barely processed it by the time you were unlocking the door to your apartment and walking in wearing the same clothes from the night before. You had never done the walk of shame before, never had the chance, but what you did with Zayne didn’t make you feel shameful. Quite the opposite, you felt hot, charged with a painful desire you hadn’t felt before. The same desire that had led to your hands working their way into your panties the last two nights, trying and failing to recreate the magic that Zayne’s fingers had worked on your body.
The reason you couldn’t speak to him after all that was because you weren’t even sure what you were meant to say, or do. You’d never done this before, never even had a crush on a friend before, and you had realised each time you’d opened up your message thread with Zayne only to close it again in frustration, that you’re out of your depth.
You want him - your thighs ache with it, your underwear already dampening each time you watch Zayne’s fingers shift around his chopsticks, and you know he’s watching you. But he’s your best friend, he’s one of the most important people in your life, and you can’t bear the thought of somehow messing up and losing him.
What if you’re bad at sex? What if he gets impatient or annoyed when you don’t know how to make him feel as good as he made you feel? You’ve heard horror stories from your friends about their first times, and you’d gotten close to having sex with a guy back in college, but you had chickened out the moment you walked into his dorm room and saw the condoms on his nightstand.
He hadn’t even kissed you, and he’d bought condoms.
But there’s a part of you that thinks it would be different with Zayne. He’s a man, not a boy, and the raw, feverish way he’d kissed you the other night makes you hope that maybe it would be enjoyable. Maybe you wouldn’t be writhing around in pain like your college friends used to describe their first times.
The idea of it suddenly makes you clench hard; new, foreign muscles locking tight at the idea of Zayne’s hands on your body again. When you shift in your seat, Zayne glances over at you again, his eyes trailing from your lips, lower and lower until he’s staring at the part of your body hidden by the table. His hand clenches tight into a fist and he pushes back from the table suddenly.
“I should go, I have an early shift at the hospital tomorrow,” He doesn’t look at you after that, smiling warmly at Granny and waving at Caleb, who waves back half-heartedly, more focused on his noodles.
Your lips part in surprise, and when Zayne disappears into the hallway to grab his coat, you stand too, “I should go too, Granny. I have some work to do before tomorrow,”
The lie stains your insides with guilt, but you can’t let Zayne leave, not without apologising. Pushing the chair back in, you leave your near empty plate and walk briskly into the hall, finding Zayne just as he’s slipping his jacket, adjusting the collar before he pauses, staring at you.
Granny and Caleb are still within earshot, so you nod towards the door, indicating for him to go outside so you can talk. He does, his eyes wide and unguarded, darkening with that familiar heat, but he blinks, and it’s gone. He nods back, turning to open the door, keeping it wide for you to slip through, grabbing your jacket on the way.
It’s chilly outside, but you let your coat hang from your fingers, staring up at Zayne. The confidence from a moment ago has vanished, and you’re left standing before you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His breath leaves his parted lips in a soft cloud of white, and when he speaks, his voice is strained.
“Please put on your coat,”
You shrug into it, gasping softly when Zayne reaches forward, as if he can’t stop himself, grasping the buttons and silently doing them up until his hands brush your chin. The contact of his skin on yours has a heady, warm feeling gathering in your stomach, and his hands linger under your chin for a few moments. When he moves away, you can finally breathe.
“I just wanted to, ah, apologise,” You begin, cheeks warm. It’s like you’re a teenager all over again, “I shouldn’t have ignored your messages, I was just…” Words fail you, and you lift your eyes to meet his soft gaze.
“You don’t need to apologise, I understand, ___. You don’t have to explain,” His eyes shutter, the softness that was there now replaced by something haunted, “I went too far. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t blame you,”
His words throw you for a loop, and you’re struck into silence, wondering if you read him wrong, “What? Why would you think that?”
As soon as the words leave your lips, you realise, shaking your head. If you hadn’t gone radio silent after leaving his apartment, he wouldn’t have assumed the worst. Zayne has always been like this; shouldering the blame, running on this misguided belief that he should know better, that he isn’t just human like the rest of the planet.
Stepping towards him, your hand lands on his chest, “Zayne, no. You didn’t…I wanted that. What we did,” you feel warm again, but you push on, desperate to wipe that tortured look from his face, “I want you. I…I’m sorry for making you think otherwise. This is all new to me,”
As the words spill from your lips, you watch as Zayne’s pupils dilate. You get a hint of the man he became the other night when he kissed you senseless, and you want him to do it again. You need his lips on yours like you need the air in your lungs; it’s a part of your chemical make-up now, this need for Zayne. It’s knitted in your bones, tucked beneath your ribs, throbbing hot and wet between your legs.
“Zayne,” You murmur, tugging his coat gently, desperate for him to touch you, “please, kiss me again. Just like the other night,”
A harsh breath leaves his lungs, deflating his chest as it caves in under your hand. His palm lands in the dip of your waist and you instantly decide there are too many layers between you. He’s breathing deeply, his breath ruffling your bangs as you gaze up at him, “___, please,” his hand grips your coat, fishing the material like he needs to steady himself, “I c- if I kiss you right now I’m - I’ll never stop,”
“Don’t stop,” You plead, running your hands over his chest, moving under his jacket, “I don’t want you to stop,”
His jaw clenches, and he grips your hand, tugging you along towards his car. Your stomach dips with excitement, nerves, arousal, you’re not exactly sure which exactly, but you know that whatever is about to happen will wreck you, ruin you for anyone else, and you think you might already be half in love with Zayne as he tucks you into the passenger seat, his knuckles brushing your thigh through your stockings.
With a hard swallow, he backs away, closing your door and walking around the front of the car. He gets into the driver’s seat, silent save for the ragged way his chest rises and falls, and pulls out of the parking spot so fast you have to hold on.
Zayne is going to fucking combust if he doesn’t get you naked within the next thirty seconds. He’s sure he broke several traffic laws driving to his apartment, and as he pulls you to the elevator in the lobby of his building, he wonders whether he can bribe security to turn off the camera in there.
He forces himself to hold it together, not even able to speak to you for fear he will spew all the filth that’s currently rolling around in his head. He needs to remember you’ve never done this before, that he should be gentle with you, but the words you spoke to him outside your grandma’s house taunt him.
I want you, I want you, I want you.
He’d already been half hard when he left that dining table, thinking he was deluding himself to believe that you were squirming in your seat because of him. Because of the way he was unable to rip his eyes from your pretty, pink lips the moment you turned up. An image of them wrapped around the head of his dick has him bracing against the wall by the elevator for support, and you reach out, a hand on his forearm probably thinking he’s ill or something.
The elevator dings, and he wastes no time pulling you inside and waiting impatiently for the doors to close. He can hear you almost panting, and that little voice in his head tries to convince him you can’t want him as bad as he want’s you. That you don’t feel this unbearable fire running down his spine simply because he’s standing beside you. He wants to push you against the wall, to take your mouth again, to make you taste like him, but he tries, using all of his mental fortitude, to remain in control.
It feels like it takes an hour to reach his floor, and he threads his shaking fingers through yours, needing to feel your skin on his in some way. You have this uncanny ability to ground him and knock him on his ass all in one breath, so by the time you both make it to his door, his cock is pressing eagerly against the fly of his jeans. He almost drops his keys twice trying to open the door, and as he drags you inside, you surprise him by gripping the back of his neck and tugging his lips to yours.
White hot need courses through his veins, the keys are dropped somewhere on the floor, the door is kicked shut and within seconds he’s got you up in the air, dropping your ass down on the console table by the door.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” His hips are rocking between your thighs, the the table knocking into the wall, his heart thudding hard when he notices you’re panting just as hard as him. Your lips parted, hands grasping and tugging his coat into you both successfully get it off his shoulders, letting it land in a heap on the floor, forgotten in the haze of heat and lips and tongue.
He feels like he’s drunk; his coordination is impaired, vision blurry when he pulls back, looking down at you. The rough sound of his voice cuts through the mayhem, “You want this? You really want this?” He asks because he’s, honestly, in disbelief that this is happening right now. He can’t quite comprehend how the angel in front of him, gazing at him with dilated pupils, red lips and a blush coating your neck and chest, wants him.
“Yes,” You whine, and he just about fucking comes, “Please, Zayne, I need it. I’m aching so bad,”
He might cry if you keep talking, so he kisses you instead, picking you up and walking you blindly in the direction of his bedroom. He murmurs against your lips the whole time, so gone for you that he’s not even sure what he’s really saying, “I’ll be so good for you, ___. I’m gonna make it so good -”
You moan against him, grinding your clothed pussy against his stomach. He finds his bedroom, knocking into the door frame in an effort to get you in there as quickly as possible. When he drops you on his bed, he just has to stare at you for a moment, catch his breath, maybe, but mostly he just wants to convince himself that this isn’t some twisted fucking dream.
His eyes flare and he has to bring his hand to palm his erection when you start wriggling out of your clothes. He almost wishes you would stop, because he’s dreamt about peeling every layer off of your body himself, but he can’t quite bring himself to step towards you. His brain jump-starts back into action once you get down to your underwear, and he plants a knee on the mattress, a hand on your wrist when you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear. He’s in a trance, eyes locked on the little bow in the centre of your panties.
He wants to put his mouth on you so badly.
“Zayne,” You whisper, it’s almost a moan, your soft thighs rubbing together as you squirm under his stare, like him just looking at you turns you on. The feeling is fucking mutual.
His thumb brushes the bow, his other hand dropping beside your waist. He can feel the heat of your skin, soaking into his bones, and he knows that he won’t come back from this. He thought that what you did on Friday night would be the end of him, but he was so wrong. This right here will obliterate him.
He sighs shakily, thumb running over your mound, his teeth sinking into his lower lip when he reaches the dampest part of your underwear. You’re soaked, all for him, so wet that he can smell the sweet, huskiness of your arousal, and he abandons all prior concerns about his control, dipping his head to press his nose directly into your wetness.
“Oh,” You murmur raggedly, wiggling your hips to try and get his nose to rub against you just right. He inhales you deeply, pondering in insanity that he may need to find a way to make a candle out of this scent, before he lifts his head a little, looking up at your face.
“You’re so beautiful,” His voice is unrecognisable, and he swallows in an effort to moisten his vocal chords enough to tell you all that he has kept bottled up. If he scares you off now, it’s no matter, it’s far too late for him, “I’ve fucked my hand so many times thinking of this, of you,”
You don’t say anything, but your thighs try to close around where he is currently seated between them. He runs his palms up your thighs, gratified beyond belief to see goosebumps following his path.
“I need to eat you out,” He says simply, eyes boring into yours, waiting for you to give him even the barest hint of consent. He needs to taste you on his tongue, needs to lick deeply inside you until you come again, until he's haunted by the feeling of your cunt clenching against his mouth. He’s out of his mind over the smell of you, the wetness that coats your pretty, white panties with the little bow that he’s sure will haunt him for the rest of his life. “Tell me I can, ___, please,”
“I’ve never…” You don’t need to finish, because he already knows. He witnessed you get soaked from just his kiss, watched enraptured as you came wetly over his fingers. He knows you’ve never had it and there’s a primal roar of satisfaction in his chest at the knowledge that he’s the first man to taste you.
“I know, beautiful. Do you want it? You don’t have to say yes,” He murmurs, even as he licks his lips. He wants to make this good for you, he meant that, and if he’s going to have the privilege of fucking you today, he needs you to be ready for him. He needs you soft and pliant and comfortable - the idea of causing you discomfort makes him want to keel over.
A swallow works down your delicate throat, and his eyes flare, another wicked idea flitting through his mind. If you let him, he will mark you up, he will lay his claim on you, no matter how much he might not deserve to.
“Yes, okay,” You say, brows knitting together. He doesn’t move, hands settling on your knees, pausing your movements as you part them for him.
“You’re frowning,”
A flush paints your cheeks, and you groan in frustration, head hitting the mattress as you stare up at the ceiling. You’re so fucking cute, he can hardly take it.
“I don’t know what - …like, what do I do?” You’re watching him, eyes wide and blown out, almost black. He can tell that you meant it when you said you wanted it, and he smiles softly at you, parting your legs with a palm on each thigh.
“Just lay back,” He says softly, “I’ll take care of you,”
The closer his face gets to your pussy, your face relaxes into a look of concentrated arousal. You’re watching his every movement, gasping quietly when he licks a trail up the wet patch on your panties. He keeps his eyes on you as he kisses you slowly, filthily through the material, taking it as slow as he can, his cock throbbing, angry and eager to be inside your tightness. He ignores it to the best of his ability, keeping his hips lifted off the bed - he doesn’t want to come too fast, but as soon as you moan, head thrown back, hands fisting his bedsheets, he slams his hips down into the softness of his bed. Desperate for friction, it’s near painful with how badly he needs to fuck, and he abandons all thought, pulling your panties to the side to suckle at your swollen clit.
“Oh my god, Zayne,” Your voice is reedy, whimpers breaking every word, and he groans into your pussy, hips punching into the bed.
Your thighs start shaking soon after, and you’re already close. He can feel the way you’re clenching when he dips his tongue inside you, relishing in the arch of your back, the way your hands fly up to grip your breasts. It’s such an erotic sight, Zayne can feel his cock twitching, he’s gonna come too soon, again, but he can’t help it. You turn him into this needy, helpless mess, and he’s coming with you within a few more seconds of your tight pussy squeezing his tongue, his body rocking into the bed, so hard he can hear it squeak a couple times along the carpet.
Next time, he thinks wildly, unhinged in his desire, he’s gonna eat your pussy with you on all fours, he’s gonna make you ride his face while he fucks his hand. He doesn’t care if you never touch his dick as long as he can spend the rest of his life with his face between your legs.
He pulls away from you after a few more licks, the stickiness of your arousal is a sweet syrup on his lips, and when he raises his body off the bed, he can only stare at you. Legs twitching, skin shined with sweat. He can feel his cock getting hard again, and he hasn’t even got his jeans off yet.
You’re opening your eyes then, a hazy gaze running from his flushed face to his panting chest, all the way down to the wet patch on the front of his jeans. You nibble at your lip at the sight, and - yeah, he’s hard again.
“Is it…,” You glance down at his crotch again, “Are we done now?”
He licks his lips, tasting you again, “Do you want us to be done?”
You’re shaking your head, sitting up on his bed. There’s a wet patch under your ass that he wants to lap at, and you wriggle away, further into the centre of the bed until you’re laying your head on his pillow. He lets himself think it now, pulls down the wall guarding him from the truth that he’s devastatingly in love with you. Seeing you laying on his bed in your underwear, fucked out, blushing and smiling as you wait for him to join you - it sends him into a tailspin.
A smarter man would realise he’s not good enough for you, that he doesn’t deserve something so heavenly. But Zayne isn’t very smart, it turns out, because he crawls onto the bed, caging you in with his arms and kissing you deeply. He lets you taste yourself, lets you taste the flavour of what he’s done to you, and you groan, tugging his black shirt out of his jeans.
He helps you as the two of you tackle his shirt, peeling it off of his shoulders, smiling against your lips when your hands immediately explore his skin, grabbing and digging your nails into his shoulder blades. He has to stand up to take off his jeans and his ruined underwear, his cock springing free, already hot and hard again. He watches as you assess him, your tongue wetting your lips has a bead of precum forming on the tip, even as his earlier orgasm already coats it.
You open your mouth as if to speak, but then you snap your lips shut. He can’t have that.
“What is it, ___? Tell me,”
“I want…” Your eyes fall to his dick again, “Can I taste you?”
He almost falls to the floor, all feeling gone in his legs thanks to the blood rushing directly to his cock. He wonders if you could make him come simply by speaking, by asking him questions in that innocently curious voice of yours.
It’s not a good idea, not with his track record with you, but he swallows hard, nodding and watching hungrily as you crawl across to him. He pauses you, desperate to see more, needing to see all of you, and unclips your bra, tossing it aside, forgotten. Your breasts sway before him, his hands reaching out with no hesitation, gripping them both as his cock bobs with another warning twitch. You watch it all with a heated look in your eye.
When you lean forward, letting your tongue flick out to taste the head, Zayne immediately buckles, pushing you back on the bed so you’re on your back. He climbs over you, a barely caged animal.
“You -” He groans when his cock brushes your underwear, “I cant - Maybe another time,”
“Did I do it wrong?” You frown.
He almost laughs, a pained wheezing sound bursting from his throat, “No, you’re - everything's perfect. You’re perfect- “ He’s babbling now, the desperation to be inside you taking over, as he rears up, tugging off your panties and dropping them at the bottom of the bed. A crazy parts of him wants to keep them as a memento of tonight.
He shakes above you, his arms trembling as his tip brushes your entrance, and he worries you might be nervous. He’s not small by any means; thick as well as a decent length, his cock isn’t gonna be easy for you to take for your first time, and so as a form of self-preservation and to help make sure you’re ready, he drops his head to take your soft nipple into his mouth, his fingers skimming your stomach to enter you in one thrust. You buck against him, whining, begging him to fuck you, and he growls, kissing up to your neck so he can suck a couple of marks into your skin.
“So fucking good for me- God, ____, you’re everything -”
“Zayne,” You tug on his hand, trying to pull his fingers free from inside you, “I need you. Please, please -”
He can’t resist you begging, he can’t help himself when you start mewling those words against his lips, your hands digging into his lower back. He positions himself at your wet heat, shuddering with each inch you accept him. You gasp when he thrusts a little too hard, but when he checks your face to make sure he didn’t hurt you, you’re watching him with a searingly needy expression. You want him, you tell him so with every clench of your walls around his cock, and so he lets his dick slide inside you all the way, his thighs already shaking.
He’s pathetic.
“Fuck, fuck - hgn - oh god, it’s so good, ___. So fucking good for me,” He begins a steady pace, slower than he needs, but it’s enough to have you arching into him, your pretty tits lifted to his waiting mouth, and he moans loudly, without abandon, as your hands reach up to flatten on the headboard. You’ve never done this, and yet he’s the one who feels like he’s never been fucked before. You’re rolling your hips, rocking up to take his cock, and he can feel his balls clenching with the need to come, “Tell me I can come - tell me - let me come, please, beautiful, I need to fuck my cum into this pussy,”
“Please,” You groan, “you can come. Please, I need it so bad -”
“Fuck,” He’s going to come, he’s reaching the point of no return and he’s barely been inside you ten seconds. He slides his hand between your bodies, rubbing at the hard little nub above where he’s sliding into you. You’re gripping him so tight he can barely speak. He’s dreamed of making you beg for his cock, of making you tell him how bad you need it, but in the end he’s the one begging you.
“Please, please, oh fuck, ___. I’m coming -” He grunts, “Say my name, fuck - hgn, please. Please say my name - I fucking love you. Say it for me -” His words break off into a moan as you come all over his cock, your body clenching, eyes rolling back. You’re chanting his name, calling it into the empty room, making his fucking life.
He follows you with several jagged, deep thrusts, fucking you up the bed until your head reaches the headboard. He has a few brain cells left to place his hand between you and the wooden surface, and then he allows himself a couple more rough rolls of his hips that have you shaking.
The silence afterwards is broken only by your breaths. Zayne’s head is on your chest, listening to the way your heart hammers beneath him. He can’t move, his legs have lost all feeling and he enjoys the way you run your fingers through his hair. He nuzzles into your sweaty skin and glances up at you. You’re smiling, glowing like you do in his dreams, and he almost wants to pinch himself.
He raises himself up onto his forearms, just about managing to make his legs work enough to hover over you, his lips pressed to yours. He whispers how much he loves you, how long he’s loved you, and you don’t say it back yet, but you kiss him deeply. He relishes in this sweet moment, a whole new beginning, and for the first time when it comes to you, he’s not scared.
