Punishments and Pleasure

Losing Control II

A good twenty minutes pass before Liam ―hair still damp and somewhat dishevelled, a sight Zayn doesn't often get to enjoy ―appears in the doorway to the living room.

Zaym is just about to raise his coffee mug to his lips to take another sip of the hot beverage. But he pauses halfway and lets his eyes travel over Liam's perfectly toned body instead and delights in the way Liam'a abdominal muscles flex under his gaze. His cock is semi-hard, and its slightly darker shade is a beautiful contrast compared to Liam's milky-white skin. His crystal-clear chocolate brown eyes sparkle brightly but darken a shade or two when Zayn's eyes linger on his cock longer than the rest of his body.

Zayn smiles.

He likes the effortless way he can make Liam want to fall apart at the seams with something as simple as a look. Over the years, he's learnt not to give anything away, but despite his cool poker face, Liam gets flustered, often even blushes. Zayn likes the perfect shade of pink that graces Liam's cheeks in those moments. He positively delights in the control he has over Liam, and it makes him thirst for more.

The knowledge that Liam trusts him enough and is comfortable enough in his presence to show him his vulnerable side, to be open. It consumes Zaym with such ferocity that he sometimes wants to pinch himself just to make sure it's all true. Even after years of marriage, years of living together, years of indulging in kink together, Zayn can't bring himself to take anything about Liam for granted. To him, Liam and his submission are a precious gift, Zayn cherishes beyond everything in this world.

"Come in, pet, join me on the couch," he says.

He doesn't ask Liam to crawl, doesn't even motion for Liam to do that, and doesn't ask him to kneel at his feet either. The invitation to be on the sofa with him isn't one Zayn issues often, but it's early, and they've plans to stay at the cottage for well over a week. He feels indulgent, and a large part of him wants to spoil Liam and make this all about him.

In every sense of the way.

Then again, it's always about Liam. His safety, his consent, his pleasure, his pain, his wellbeing.

At this point, Zayn forces himself to stop that train of thought to keep his sadistic side from taking over. Because if it does, and Zayn is quite sure of that, he's going to end up giving his plans away.

That, at least at this point in time, would be entirely counterproductive. He doesn't want Liam to know what he's got up his sleeve. Not just yet, anyway. For now, he wants to keep Liam guessing, wants to keep him on his toes.

Liam instantly looks like the cat that got the cream, and it's a look Zayn very much likes on him. Lowering his head ever so slightly, he steps into the room, walking as quietly as a mouse. His bare feet sink into the deep, soft carpet beneath his feet, and his toes instinctively curl into the long tufts. He walks gracefully, with the elegance. Liam approaches the sofa, hesitates for a split second, but when Zayn invitingly pats the empty space beside him, Liam climbs onto it. He curls up at Zayn's side, placing his head on Zayn's lap.

Zayn spreads his legs a bit to offer Liam more comfort, and dropping his hand, he runs his fingers through Liam'a velvety-soft brown hair. It smells divine ―a mix of bergamot and citrus ―and feels utterly divine.

Liam lets out an audible and somewhat shaky breath, and Zayn finally takes a sip of his coffee.

Comfortable silence settles around them, and Zayn continues to run his fingers through Liam's hair, combing through the loose strands. Some of them fall into Liam's face, and as soon as Zayn notices, he brushes them back, stroking Liam's cheek with affection as he does so.

Eventually, his hand travels to Liam's neck, and he applies the tiniest amount of pressure to the rather sizable love bite he's placed there less than an hour ago. Compared to Liam's naturally pale skin, the dark purple bruise stands out like a beacon, and Liam lets out the tiniest whimper. Not because it hurts, though Zayn is sure it does, at least a little, because the pressure instinctively reminds Liam of the mark Zayn's left on him. He turns his head ever so slightly and looks up at him through long, light eyelashes.