Zustin - Tightrope

I won't bite Justin

"I'm gonna shower," Zayn says as we step into the bedroom. He's rifling through his suitcase, which is now spilling its contents onto the floor. He grabs a pair of clean underwear, then hastily shoves some of the fallen items back into the suitcase.

"Have fun," I reply with a smirk.

"You don't wanna join?" he asks, glancing up at me.

"Of course I do. I want to film it too, so I can keep it forever and play it at my funeral," I joke, my voice teasing but my eyes betraying something more.

"Come on then," he says, stretching out his hand. "We can film it. I'd like that." His smile turns seductive, eyes darkening with intent.

"I already showered before you came," I protest, though even as the words leave my mouth, I know I'm going to give in.

"You can shower again," he counters smoothly.

"We were supposed to just chill this weekend, remember? We agreed on that for a reason," I remind him, though my gaze has already dropped to my hands resting in my lap. I'm fully aware I'm on the brink of surrender.

"We don't have to do anything. I just like showering with you Justin. I like being that close to you, just feeling you. I've missed it," he says, his voice softening.

Is he hearing himself? Does he realize what he's saying? I can't help but wonder if he understands that these moments, these intimate words, mean something real. Is he this oblivious, or am I just delusional? Have I really convinced myself that Zayn Malik likes me?

"Okay," I give in, hating myself a little for it. "But no funny business. And no filming."

"I would never do funny business with someone who just said no funny business. That's so unattractive," he says with a grin.

"Everything I say is unattractive to you," I sigh, following him into the bathroom. I pull off my shirt and step out of my pants. Zayn is doing the same, but he takes off his boxers as well, and now I'm just staring at his perfect dick, already hard.

I mentally slap myself and try to focus. He catches me looking and smirks. "You're hard," I state, my eyes still glued to him.

"I know Justin. You don't need to point it out, I can feel it," he replies, rolling his eyes.

"But we said no funny business," I protest weakly.

"I can't help it. Of course, I get hard when you're almost naked in front of me. I get hard just looking at your face sometimes," he says, stepping into the shower and turning on the water. "Are you going to shower in those?" he asks, nodding at my boxers.

Reluctantly, I take them off, praying I don't get a boner, at least not immediately, and step into the shower. The water is perfect, but all I can focus on is Zayn, standing there like a living, breathing god, water cascading down his sculpted body.

"I won't bite Justin," Zayn says softly, noticing me lingering on the edge. He reaches out and pulls me closer. Grabbing the bottle of strawberry-scented soap, he squeezes some into his hand and begins to lather it onto my body. "You're so beautiful Justin. I've never been this attracted to anyone," he whispers, his hands gliding over my skin, taking his time.

I'm already rock hard, and I know he notices. I want to glance down at him, but I'm too focused on controlling my breathing. He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Do you want me to touch you?" he murmurs, leaving a feather light kiss on my neck.

"Mhm," I gulp loudly, embarrassed by how desperate I sound.

His hand roams over my torso, spreading the soap, then slowly moves lower, caressing my thigh. He inches closer to my dick until finally, he wraps his hand around it. I let out a loud moan, mortified by the sound that escapes me. "Is this excluded from no funny business, or should I stop?" he teases.