Under Summer Sky • Zarry

10. Awakening

Zayn shook me awake at three in the morning.

"Harry. Harry...hey, you need to get up. You gotta go," he whispered to me groggily, invoking a low groan that escaped from my throat.

I hated this part. "Yeah okay...okay," I grumbled, forcing myself to climb out of his bed.

Half-asleep, I retrieved my still damp swimming shorts from where they were laid out on the windowsill as well as a random t-shirt of Zayn's that I saw laying on the floor. I scooped it up and slipped it on over my head before I turned around and gave him one last look, his eyes fluttering closed as he stirred and clutched at the pillows.

He looked so peaceful and innocent laying there like that and I wished I could have climbed back in bed with him.

As I started to leave into the late night I paused at the door when Zayn called out my name.

"Harry."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," he said sleepily.

"For what?"

"For staying. Was comfy."

"Of course," I replied with a lazy smile, and then swiftly left his bedroom.

I came to understand quickly that certain words and feelings weren't always said outright with Zayn. He was the type of person who's always in his head and his actions were typically much louder.

But that was his language and I understood it, accepted it, and I felt a sense of warmth stay within my body as I traipsed back to the guest house, holding onto the memory of how it felt when he held me close.

That's pretty much how the nights ended up all week long. I'd come up to Zayn's room once he got home from the hospital after visiting Natalia and we'd mess around with each other for awhile and then later on I'd creep out into the night.

And I was completely consumed by it, by him.

Zayn spent a lot of time figuring me out, learning what it was that I liked and what really got me, and likewise I was also learning new things about myself that I hadn't known before. He gathered quickly just how much I enjoyed sinking into submission by him and he was very, very good at maintaining a solid control over everything we did. He commanded me, I obeyed, and that's exactly how I wanted it.

By the end of the week I was beyond obsessed with Zayn.

Obsessed with his hands and the way his touch felt. Obsessed with his lips and the way he kissed me both hard and deep, but also softly, gently. Obsessed with his eyes and the way he looked at me like I was the only thing on his mind. Obsessed with his voice and the way he spoke lowly against my skin, telling me what he wanted me to do.

Zayn had an impeccable ability to tow this fine line between the most calculated aggression and passion but also this subtle tenderness and I felt so good about myself, and so well taken care of. He just knew exactly what to do and how.

It kept blowing my mind.

And I felt freshly awakened by this newfound exploration of my sexuality, tapping into these secret parts of me that had previously laid dormant and unattended to.

I especially doted on the way that Zayn always called me kitten now and he'd run his hand through my curls whenever I was pleasing him, always ensuring that I received proper praise for a job well done and then he'd continue to reward me with the most amazing oral sex; better than anything I had ever received before in my life.

And when our hands and mouths weren't all over each other like mad, untamed animals, we were lounging around together on his bed, close and hanging out smoking weed, having several glasses of wine and listening to music together in the most natural, most comfortable state of being.