I didn’t want to be here.

The lights were low, the music was loud and my friends were having the time of their lives, but I wasn’t. I could feel him. I could feel his gaze burning into the skin of my back and I wasn’t okay with it. We had been broken up for about 3 months now and I was far from over it. This wasn’t my usual spot, not that the whole bar thing was my scene, but I usually didn’t come here. Tonight, however, my friends had decided to drag me to places that they frequented regularly, places with which I knew I wouldn’t be comfortable.

I was the girl that you could usually find curled up on the sofa with a good book, glasses perched on the end of my nose and my hair thrown up in a messy bun, an oversized sweater adorning my body and covering the curves that he used to love. I often found myself engrossed in worlds that didn’t exist to anyone else but me and I liked it that way. I liked being oblivious to the outside world. Partying and bar hopping wasn’t my style. I wasn’t a social butterfly, unlike my best friend, often shying away from situations and events that would involve numerous people that I wouldn’t recognize. I hated making conversation if I wasn’t comfortable with the person that was trying to talk to me and believe me when I say that getting to that point of familiarity with someone took a long time for me. It was hard for me to let my walls down, for me to let people in. But once you were in, once I cared enough to let you see who I really was, you were in forever and I didn’t have any way of stopping it.

That’s how it was with Zayn.

We had met at a bar, actually. I was there with the same group of friends that I was with now and, as I had gone up to the bar to get a couple dozen shots of tequila, I heard my friends loudly calling for someone to join them. He stepped out of the shadows of one of the corners of the building as I had turned around to walk back to my seat. He was uncomfortable; a fact that I noticed right away by the tense set of his shoulders and the slight blush on his perfectly tanned cheeks. His jaw was set in a hard line, but, for a reason that I will never know, he decided to make his way over to them anyways.

He introduced himself quietly and each of the girls piped up with their names, as well, as I fidgeted and observed from my seat at the edge of the half circle that they were forming. He took the empty seat next to me, sitting rigidly with his hands linked together in his lap. The girls began giggling obnoxiously and touching his arm or his thigh as they talked to him, picking pieces of their hair up and twirling it around their fingers. It was disgusting and, even though I was beginning to feel the warmth of the tequila in my veins, I was nowhere near as intoxicated as they were. I think he found comfort in the fact that I was the only one that wasn’t falling all over him. Don’t get me wrong, I had found him incredibly attractive from the moment that I had laid eyes on him, but I wasn’t the type of girl that fell all over guys. I didn’t know how to flirt and I wasn’t going to act any differently than I usually did just to keep them coming back for more. It wasn’t who I was.

He was in all black – leather jacket, black skinny jeans, black T-shirt. A pair of black-rimmed glasses sat on his face and he hadn’t shaved for a few days, his stubble clearly visible even in the dim lighting. He was beautiful, sculpted like a god and made for someone that was so much better than me.

He asked me a few questions, which I answered politely, always looking at me as though I was the only one in the room. At first, it made me feel uncomfortable, the way his eyes searched mine like they were desperate for answers, desperate to hear the sound of my voice. As the night went on, I began to loosen up and talk to him more freely, though the conversation was superficial and I had no plans to see him ever again. My friends, however, felt differently and, as I would find out later, ended up giving him my number at his request before he left for the night.

I hadn’t even recognized who he was. Zayn Malik. The same Zayn Malik that I later found pictures of splashed across the tabloids with an article about him leaving the same bar that we had met that night alone.

He had called me a few days later, asking to see me and wondering if I’d be willing to get to know him. Naturally, with me being the way I am, I had told him no. I had turned him down. He was Zayn Malik, of all people, and just knowing that he was in the public eye scared me so bad that I couldn’t even begin to explain it. Just getting to know a man who was as invisible as I was scared me, let alone Zayn Malik.

A few days later, after getting yelled at and influenced by the same best friend that gave Zayn my number, I called him back and apologized, telling him that I actually would like to see him as long as we were at my house and didn’t go into public where the paparazzi and fans were. I remembered him chuckling and agreeing before setting up a day and a time for him to come over.

I didn’t want to let him in. I didn’t want to let myself need someone, but, without my consent, I fell for Zayn faster than a shooting star falls from the sky. It was unstoppable, unmanageable. I was completely gone, but it felt so incredible and so right that I had no room to complain. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t discover something else to love about him. He was quiet and sensual, dark and mysterious, compassionate and funny. We were more content to stay inside all the time, cuddled up with each other and watching a movie or reading or playing games. I quickly found that we had almost the same personality: the bookworm type, the ones that would prefer to stay away from the general public. He had quickly become everything to me and, once I had fallen, I didn’t look back.

Our break-up was somewhat of a mess. For me, at least. The biggest difference between the two of us was that, when it came to him, I wore my emotions on my sleeve, though I tried to hide them, but you could never figure out how he felt. He always knew what I was feeling and whether or not I was okay. Zayn could always tell by looking into my eyes. They always gave me away. He, however, was a closed book. He let me see him, but when it came to everyone else, he didn’t care. Besides the boys, no one knew what was going on or how he felt with the exception of me. Although, this seemed to work in his favor with his career in the public eye because they never knew whether or not he was hurting. I saw interviews and paparazzi videos all the time and every single person would be screaming questions at him about our break-up and about me while shoving cameras into his face and expecting him to answer. He never did. He never said one single bad word about me. He never let anyone see him in pain, either.

I, on the other hand, was a complete and utter catastrophe. I closed myself off even more than before, not wanting anyone to see the state that he had left me in, that I had let myself get to. It took weeks for me to get to the point where I was able to leave my house without breaking down, weeks for me to be able to talk about what had happened between us without immediately needing to end the conversation, weeks before I was able to hear his name again.

I hated myself for letting it get to this point, hated myself for letting myself sink this low. I had never wanted to be dependent on a man, to need someone in my life, but with him, it just kind of happened and, while I didn’t regret it, I was so angry and bitter and hateful towards him that, for a short while, I let it consume my life.

I was weak. I was that girl. And it was awful.

My best friend had talked me through the entire thing, never quite knowing what to do but always figuring it out in the end. She was a godsend and I loved every little piece of her.

It was because of her that I found myself in this bar, tonight. She had texted me this morning and asked if I was up for it. When I refused, she told me to get dressed anyways because she was picking me up in an hour and that she wasn’t taking no for an answer. The goal was to get me out, to get me to allow myself to have fun, but this wasn’t the way to do it. I wasn’t comfortable around all these people and I wasn’t a massive fan of drinking. I sipped, but I didn’t particularly like the feeling of getting drunk and losing all of my inhibitions.

I had only been here for about an hour when I noticed him, sitting at the very last seat at the bar, his eyes focused on me. He was wearing the same leather jacket he wore the night we met and I was immediately drowning. I still wasn’t over him and seeing him here tonight was beginning to shatter every step of progress I had made from the day that we’d split. My heart rate picked up and my hands began to shake and I needed to go. I sought out my best friend to tell her I was leaving, but she was so drunk that I knew I’d need to be the one to make sure she got home okay. I couldn’t leave her. So I stayed and tried to ignore him, tried to make myself look like I wasn’t as miserable as I felt inside.

Needing a breath of fresh air, I stepped outside and immediately felt my bones go even colder than they already were. The chilly air of a London winter pulsed through my veins and I immediately wrapped my arms around myself, leaning my shoulder against the rough surface of the brick wall. I stood there, leaned up against the building and watching my breath fan out in puffs of white, battling with myself to stay even though all I wanted to do was run.

After a couple of minutes, the back door swung open, breaking me out of my trance and causing me to whip my head around to see who had walked out. I was standing in a spot that was somewhat hidden to the person at the door, the light of the street lamp not quite making it’s way to my position.

“I know you’re out here.” He almost whispered, turning his head to the sides to try to locate me.

I sucked in a quick breath as I heard his voice, clasping my hand over my mouth to try to hold in the emotions that were attempting to push themselves from my body. Hearing my audible inhale, he turned in my direction, squinting his eyes a little and taking a step closer. I watched as a look of recognition crossed his features, knowing that he’d laid eyes on me.

“I’m here.” I said in confirmation, stepping out of the shadows to stand a few feet in front of him.

Just looking at him was pure torture and I was finding it incredibly difficult to hold myself together. I didn’t want to have the conversation that I knew was inevitable and I, sure as hell, didn’t want to be doing it now.

“You’re shivering.” He observed, moving to take off his jacket and hand it over to me.

I held my hands up in front of me and shook my head.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking from side to side like he was just as uneasy about this as I was.

“I’m with some friends.” I answered coolly, unsure as to why he was asking.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He responded, letting out an audible sigh and bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“What do you want me to say to you, Zayn?” I asked exasperatedly.

“I don’t know. I want you to tell me the truth.”

I scoffed at him and lowered my head to the ground before looking back at him, my eyes catching his and staring with a newfound determination.

“You want the truth?” I questioned, hearing a hard tone to my voice that I didn’t know even existed. “You want me to tell you what I’m really doing here? I’m trying to get over you. Is that better? Is that what you wanted to hear, Zayn? Here’s the truth for you! For the past couple of months, I have done nothing but sit in my apartment and let myself sink lower than I’ve ever been. I have done nothing but wallow in self-pity and my own misery. Over you. While you are perfectly fine. That’s the fucking truth!”

“Babe, I-” He started, taking a step closer.

“Don’t.” I snarled. “Don’t ‘babe’ me. You broke up with me, remember?”

“What did you want me to do, huh?!” He exploded, letting his anger fuel his words just like I was doing with mine. “What was I supposed to do?! Because all I have done for the last few months is hate myself for what I did to you!”

“I wanted you to love me, Z.” I stated simply, somehow finding that all of my anger had dissipated and that I was back to that quiet and vulnerable girl with whom I was familiar. “I just wanted you to be there, to love me.”

I shrugged my shoulders at the last part and felt the tears form in my eyes, trying but failing to keep them from falling over the edge. Sighing, I looked at the ground and wrapped my arms around myself once more as I kicked my heels at some rocks beneath my feet.

“I do. God, do I love you. Still. I just didn’t know how to be there for you. I hated seeing you hurt that much, listening to you cry and watching you walk around like you had no feelings left in your body. Because of me. I took the easy way out and I ran. I ran from you, from me, from us. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for hurting you the way I did. But I didn’t know how to fix it. And then, you started moving further and further in the opposite direction - away from me - and I began to think that maybe that’s what was for the best, maybe that’s what you wanted. So I walked away from you and, in the process of doing so, lost the most important thing that I had in my life.”

I looked up at him as he finished, standing there looking at me with the most agonizing expression on his face and I felt my resolve crumble.

“You distanced yourself. You were never around; always off doing God knows what with God knows who. Part of that is your job and I would never, in a million years, ask you to give that up. But, if you had wanted to, you would’ve made it work. I can’t love someone who isn’t there. Love doesn’t work that way – it takes two.” I said, needing him to know that I wasn’t okay.

“You never said anything, never asked me to stay.” He pressed on.

“It’s not who I am. I would never force you into doing something that you don’t want to do. You made the decisions that you did because it’s what you wanted. Who was I to ask you to do something different? That’s not me. I shouldn’t have had to ask you.”

“Damnit, you should have! You should have asked me! You should have told me how you were feeling!” He said, his voice rising with every word.

“What difference would it have made, Zayn? It wouldn’t have mattered what I asked of you and, deep down, you know that.”

I watched as he opened his mouth to retort before shutting it again without making a sound. The fight had been drained out of me and, by the slump of his shoulders and the way his chest rose and fell heavily, I could tell that he felt the same.

“I’m just gonna go.” I said, pointing to the door and starting to walk over to it, brushing his arm by accident as I passed him.

He grabbed my wrist before I could reach the door and spun me around, using his other hand to cup my cheek.

“It would have made all the difference. You matter. You always have.” He said breathlessly, looking into my eyes for some sort of response.

My wrist was held firmly to his chest where I had tried to regain my balance after being pulled backwards and, as his thumb caressed my cheek, I felt myself give in to his touch.

“Kiss me,” I breathed, tilting my face up and untangling my hand from his hold to wrap my arms around his waist. “Just kiss me.”

With that, his lips crashed to mine and he pulled me so close that I could feel his heart beat through my own chest. He pushed me up against the hard surface of the wall, the skin of my back scratching against the brick and making me cry out half in pleasure, half in discomfort. He wasn’t being gentle and I quite liked it. He was kissing me with a desperation that could only be seen in one other person: me. His teeth scraped against my lips, his tongue dominated mine, his fingertips dug so far into my flesh that I knew I’d be able to see bruises tomorrow, and, I swear, in a few hours you’d be able to see stubble burn on my face from his more than a 5 o’clock shadow. But I was basking in it.

“I’ve missed you so much, shit.” He groaned as he tore his mouth from mine and dropped his forehead to my shoulder, breathing heavily and attempting to slow his sporadically beating heart.

I held onto him, not wanting to let him go for even a second, as my chest heaved and I shut my eyes against the tears that were still deciding whether or not they wanted to spill over. His body was wrapped around mine, shielding me from the cold and making me want him that much more.

“Take me home, Zayn.” I whispered in his ear, seeing him shiver as my warm breath hit his skin.

He looked at me then, moving both of his hands to cup my cheeks and swiping his thumbs across them, the tears that had previously fallen transferring to his fingers. His eyes stayed locked with mine for a few seconds before he left one last quick kiss to my lips and moved away from me, clasping our hands together and pulling me along after him in the direction of a waiting taxi on the side of the street.

The car ride to his house was surrounded with so much sexual tension that it was intoxicating. My veins were vibrating in anticipation. My breathing quick and labored as I tried to wait patiently for what I knew was about to happen. My hands shook and goosebumps erupted on the surface of my skin as we pulled up at the end of his gated driveway. I opened the door of the cab as he hurriedly threw some cash at the driver, calling his thanks over his shoulder as he rushed out of the car behind me.

He stole lingering kisses and fleeting touches as we made our way to his front door, always having some sort of contact with each other. The minute he got his door open, however, he had me pinned to the wall of his entryway, his lips on my neck and his hands in my hair.

“Baby, no teasing.” I said on a breath as he nipped at my sweet spot.

“You don’t get to call the shots.” He growled, continuing to nip and suck at my neck.

He dragged his hands down my sides and gripped my hips, pressing them against his own and grinding himself into me. He was hard through his jeans and he wanted me to feel him, to know what effect I had on him.

This was a side of Zayn that I wasn’t used to seeing. He had dominant tendencies, but he had never fully let them show and, while it was unfamiliar territory for me, it was turning me on in ways that I never could have imagined.

Keeping his lips locked on every piece of skin that he could manage, he began to rid me of my clothes. As I stood before him in nothing but the heels that I had worn to the club, he stepped back and ran his gaze up and down the length of my body. I watched as his pupils dilated and his tongue snuck out to swipe across his bottom lip, bucking my hips out a little to draw his attention to the place that had been yearning for him for months. I watched as the fabric across his cock began to visibly tighten as I acted out of pure sexual frustration and started touching myself.

I started with my chest, moving my hand across my breast and taking the already hard nipple between two of my fingers, squeezing and pulling, sending a shockwave to my core and making me close my eyes in pleasure. My head fell back against the wall and my mouth parted as I let my other hand massage the skin of my stomach and lower, cupping myself and feeling how wet I was for him.

I couldn’t see him. But I could hear him. I could hear the way his breath picked up and envision, in my head, what he looked like as he stood there watching me. I could hear a slight groan drip from his tongue as I parted my folds and teased myself, dipping just the tip of my middle finger into my core, coating it with my wetness, before sliding it up to circle my clit. I let a long moan fall from my lips as I held myself back from fully touching myself, wanting him to be the one to finish me after so long without him.

I opened my eyes to his hungry gaze, his lips parted and his hand on his jean clad cock, attempting to rub away some of the tension.

“Get on your knees. Be a good girl.” He snarled, undoing his belt and locking his eyes with mine as I followed his direction, somehow knowing that I’d be punished if I didn’t. “Look what you’ve done to me, feel me.”

I looked up at him innocently as I leaned forward and ghosted my lips over his tip, then his shaft before pressing his cock against his stomach and licking a long, slow strip to his head. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as it fell back on his shoulders, exhaling audibly as I gripped his base with my slim fingers and sucked just the tip of his cock between my lips, swirling my tongue around it and pressing it against his slit. He groaned at the contact and tangled his fingers in my hair, massaging the base of my neck.

I wanted him to fall apart above me. I wanted to see the pleasure written on his face as I gave just as much as I took. It was erotic and it was enticing and I loved every second of it. But I wanted to shatter him.

Without warning, I took him as far back into my throat as I could, feeling his cock glide passed my gag reflex and my throat close around his length. His head shot forward and his eyes flew open, locking with mine as a steady string of curses made their way up his throat.

“Fuck, what the - ” He stuttered, trying to catch his breath as I hollowed out my cheeks and pulled him from my mouth before repeating it all over again in quick succession, his hips bucking on their own accord.

“Jesus Christ, stop. You have to stop.” He panted, releasing my hair and pulling me to my feet by my shoulders before pushing me against the nearest wall once more and closing his lips around mine.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I asked, innocence tangled in every word, as he kissed across my cheek and down my chest to close his teeth around one of my nipples.

He growled as I speared my fingers into his hair, holding him to me as I whimpered at the contact.

“It’s been too long… I can’t…” He let his words trail off as he continued to leave open-mouthed kisses on my skin, finding one spot in particular and leaving his mark, owning me in more ways than one.

“Don’t. Don’t hold back. I need you.” I said desperately, wrapping one of my legs around him and digging the heel of my shoe into the back of his thigh as he lifted my other leg and held me to the wall with his hips.

I immediately clung to him, my legs wrapped around his waist and my fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. For some reason, though dirty talk was never my thing, I began to want it. I started to think of things to say that I never would have thought would enter my mind. I decided to test the waters and go out on a whim.

“Fuck, do you feel how wet I am for you, Z?” I asked, pulling him closer by tensing my thighs and digging my heels into his ass. “Can you feel that?”

He moaned as I bucked my hips into him, sliding my sex across his erect shaft as he froze, his eyes shutting and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“Take me, Zayn. I’m yours. I’m dripping for you. God, just fuck me.” I breathed into his ear before licking the outer shell of it and biting down on the lobe.

With that he sprung into action, lifting me just far enough to allow me space to sink down onto his already throbbing cock. My walls stretched deliciously for him as he immediately entered me all the way to the hilt, our hips pressed together and my core clenching. He moaned into my parted lips as he bit down on my bottom lip and pulled, making me whimper at his touch. He was everywhere. I could smell him. I could feel him. I could hear him. He was in my head, in my line of vision. All of my senses were buzzing with him and it was driving me insane faster than I could even begin to figure out how to stop it.

“God, you’re so tight, babe. So warm.” He managed to get out between ragged breaths as he stayed buried between my legs.

“I need you to move, Zayn.” I murmured, grinding my hips into him and causing both of our breaths to catch.

At the sound of my voice he picked up a quick, but steady rhythm that soon had me writhing against the wall that was behind us. My skin was on fire and my veins were singing with excitement as he drove into me with reckless abandon. My fingernails left scratches down his back that, I’m sure, would be red and angry for days, but neither of us cared in this moment.

“Close?” He asked, his voice deep and gravelly, making my stomach muscles clench.

“Mmm,” I tried to speak, but only a whimper came out, my mouth hanging open and my eyes shutting against the force of what was making its way through my body.

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest and, as I listened to the grunts and groans falling from his lips, I knew that he was holding back for me. He brought his thumb up to my lips and I automatically sucked it into my mouth, my brain not fully comprehending what his intentions were until I felt it pressed against my clit, my legs jerking and my walls clenching around his pulsing cock.

“Shit,” He cursed again as my body did everything in its power to keep him inside me, contracting around him and making it difficult for him to pull out before pressing back in. “I need to come.”

His thumb continued to circle my clit before he took it between his fingers, my back arching into him and my breath leaving my lungs in a quick, but powerful exhale.

“Come with me, baby.” I whimpered, feeling the burning sensation of my orgasm start in my toes and fingertips.

I shook around him as he pounded into me a few more times before burying himself as deep as he could get and holding himself there, pressing into my furthest walls and keeping his thumb attached to my clit as we ripped each other apart. I called his name as he dropped his face to the crook of my neck and bit down, smoothing it over with his warm tongue and sinking his fingers into the skin of my torso, leaving me reminders of what we had just done.

He held me closely between him and the wall as I untangled my limbs from him, dropping my legs to the floor and clinging to him once again as my legs wobbled in my heels. He laughed breathily before kneeling and tearing the shoes from my weak legs, a smirk on his face in knowing that my legs weren’t shaking because of the high heels I had been wearing. Standing back up, he wrapped his arms around me, bringing his face foward and keeping me enchanted by his eyes as he wrapped his lips around mine, kissing me gently. I parted my lips as soon as his tongue crept out to ask for permission and he took the time to explore my mouth, caressing my tongue with his own.

I broke the kiss a few minutes later to lay my head on his chest, my arms wrapped around his neck. I stood there in the entryway with him, just holding him to me, basking in the fact that we were together and that he was holding me just as tightly.

“Are you tired?” He finally spoke, running his hands up and down my back, tracing the contours of my body.

“Mmhmm,” I mumbled, picking my head up to place a kiss to the spot where I knew his heart lay hidden beneath his skin.

“Let’s go upstairs.” He whispered before kissing my forehead and taking my hand, leading me up the stairs to his bed.

Sitting down on the edge of his mattress, I opened my legs and pulled him to me, allowing him to stand between my knees. As I held to his sides, he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to my lips, telling me to lay down with his mouth still faintly against mine and forcing me back against his sheets. He backed away from me after he’d pulled the covers over me and started to walk to the door, making a comment about going to pick up the clothes that we’d left on the floor downstairs.

I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want him to leave me after we’d just found each other again. As he put his hand on the door, I lifted my head, stopping him with my words.

“Zayn…” I called, hoping that he wouldn’t reject me and hearing my voice shake with anxiousness.

He turned his head, looking over his shoulder and I could see the hard lines of his face in the moonlight as he raised his eyebrows in question. It was then that I knew. He calmed me, made me feel like this was where I was supposed to be. He knew me better than I knew myself, better than anyone else. I’d never let anyone close enough to see me, but he did. He had found his way to my heart and, if he walked out that door, I knew that he’d take it with him. So I said the one thing that he had been begging me to say all along. The one thing that I knew was all he’d wanted to hear so many months ago.


- dearstyles-stop

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