The Beautiful Escape [ZARRY]

29

Zayn's hands were shaking as one by one, he slid free the buttons and pushed the soft fabric aside to reveal Harry's board chest and flat belly. Expression rapt, Zayn spread his fingers and felt the fine muscles just beneath the surface of Harry's taut skin twitch and tighten.

Zayn's hair glowed in the candlelight and all Harry could see of Zayn as he leant closer was the top of his head and the exposed nape of his slender neck. It wasn't an area Harry had previously considered erotic- was it napes in general or this nape in particular...? That was a question for later; right now Harry needed to satisfy the fire in his blood, the ache in his loins. 

A deep line halved Zayn's smooth brow as he examined the bruised area. "Tell me if I hurt you," he whispered, tracing a line across his belly with his finger.

"I'm hurting," Harry told him thickly.

Alarmed, Zayn raised his eyes questioningly to Harry. "Where...?" he began. He saw the expression on Harry's face and his voice faded away.

"Here..." Harry took Zayn's hand and guided it to his heated lower abdomen, "...here and here," Harry elaborated thickly.

Zayn felt his chest tightened, the last walls of his control evaporating.

"I want to see you. Take your clothes off for me. All of them."

Not doing as he requested- or was it a demand?- was never an option. Like someone in a dream, Zayn crossed his arms and began to lift the hem of his shirt over his smooth stomach.

"And Zayn...?"

Zayn paused.

"Look at me."

Zayn did. He could hear the hard, uneven sound of Harry's breathing, loud in the quiet room. Even in this light, he could make out a definite flush of colour along his slashing cheekbones and the fire in his eyes. Did I really put it there...? How strange, how marvellous. 

Their eyes locked, and Zayn's anxiety was instantly soothed; Harry looked just as needy as Zayn felt. Despite the new confidence, his hands trembled uncontrollably. It was no regular, slow, seductive striptease; it was something new.

"You're gorgeous." Zayn almost believed him. Harry closed the small gap between them. Where he touched Zayn's skin tingled, and pretty soon he tingled all over.  "And cold." Harry began to briskly massage Zayn's cold body. "Come on, get in here." Taking him by his hand, Harry led him towards the sleeping bag and blankets.

Zayn drew his knees up to his chest and waited for Harry to join him, anticipation pumping darkly in him. He watched as Harry shed his clothes, ripping his shirt as he tried to ease it too quickly over his injured arm; Harry was lean, lovely and very, very aroused.

Harry was actually so beautiful Zayn wanted to cry. 

"Come here," he whispered.

Zayn did; there wasn't very far to go. They lay side by side, close but not touching, until with a hoarse groan Harry reached across with his good arm and drew Zayn on top of him. His mouth reached hungrily for Zayn.

Zayn responded joyfully to the demands of his lips and thrusting tongue. It was intoxicating to have nothing to separate them any longer. Zayn wriggled to fully appreciate the sensation. Harry's skin was warmer than Zayn's, it was harder, and Zayn discovered it had a deliciously smooth texture roughened by drifts of body hair that prickled against his own. Every detail delighted Zayn and increased the pressure of excitement building inside him to detonation point.

"For a one-handed man," Zayn remarked a hundred or so gasps later, "you manage pretty well."

A savage grin spilt Harry's face as he looked into Zayn's flushed, aroused face. "If you think that was good, wait until you get a taste of no hands."

A confused frown drew Zayn's brows together as he puzzled over his words.

Shock tensed his muscles for a split-second before Zayn gave a heavy sigh and relaxed. He moaned Harry's name out loud and writhed restlessly as Harry ran his tongue lower over the soft curve of Zayn's abdomen. The excitement built to arise as Harry continued his merciless assistance. 

The zip on the sleeping bag gave way as Harry brought Zayn's knees up and knelt between them, but Zayn didn't register the blast of cold air. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain; he cried out in protest but he cried out even louder when Harry stopped.

Harry kissed him, stilling his unintelligible protests.

Harry tasted delightful and dangerously intimate; it was a mind-shattering combination.

"I want you... so badly..." Zayn moaned, leaning his face into Harry's neck.

"Then take me, darling," Harry urged throatily. "Take me."

Zayn lifted his head. "I can. Can I...?" he gasped wonderingly. Harry whispered things in his ear that convinced him he could; he could do anything he wanted to.

Zayn stared down gloatingly at the magnificent man beneath him- his eyes were closed, his skin glistened with sweat. Zayn's muscles tensed as he bore downwards. The groan of relief and triumph that was wrenched out from his throat as he lowered himself upon Harry echoed around the room.

Harry's eyes snapped open. "Oh God, Zayn!" he groaned. "You are..." A red mist danced before his eyes; he couldn't speak, he couldn't think, he could just thrust and thrust...