That morning, I awoke to an empty bed ripe with the aromatic essence of Zayn's presence, and the delicious smell of pancakes and eggs coming from the kitchen.
I sat up and stretched, wiping the sleep from my eyes and glancing over to the clock nearest Zayn's bed.
It was early, best of 8 a.m., and I was nearly sure that Zayn had been the only one awake.
I swung my legs out of bed, passing by a mirror and making sure to give my hair a feeble attempt at a pat-down before padding down the hallway into the kitchen.
Zayn was standing in front of the stove, quietly setting two placemats at the table with glasses of orange juice and mugs of steaming coffee, as if he knew I would be up soon. His back was turned to me, giving me a chance to admire him in awe. His hair was down once again, and with the loss of his quiff went 90% of his bad-boy look. His shirt was snug, just loose enough to cascade in soft, wondrous waterfalls down the small of his back and below his shoulder blades, hanging a little bit underneath the curve of his backside.
I wondered to myself if there would ever be a time of me catching him off guard where he wouldn't look absolutely flawless.
Hearing me breathe or sniffle, Zayn turned around, putting the dirty skillet and measuring cup for the pancake batter into the sink to wash later, and carefully carrying two full plates over to the table.
"I thought you might be up soon, and I was kinda hungry, so I figured--"
"It looks really good," I interrupted him, leaning over to give him a mismatched good-morning hug before I sat down at the table to eat.
I took a bite of the fluffy pancake and speared a steaming piece of scrambled egg, resisting the urge to shove Zayn on a cooking competition that very moment-- it tasted that good.
We sat in silence, a comfortable one, enjoying the company of the other and enjoying our breakfast.
I tried not to scarf down the food, but it was so delicious that I was done within a few minutes of Zayn.
Listening closely as I scrolled through my twitter feed on my phone, I could hear Zayn's younger sisters waking up and making a little bit of noise.
Smirking, I looked up at Zayn. "I'm assuming that you made breakfast for us this early because you didn't wanna cook for the entire family?"
Zayn looked back at me as he picked up the dirty dishes and strode over to the sink. "Of course. Wouldn't want them to expect it, now would we?"
"Never," I feigned, a coy smile on my face. I knew that if need be, Zayn would jump at the opportunity to do even the smallest thing for his close-knit family.
I thought it might be a while until Zayn's parents woke up, so, after we finished scrubbing the dishes and cleaning off the table, we settled down on the couch in the den in front of the television.
Before we gravitated closer towards eachother, I felt Zayn's elbow hover ever so slightly against my hip, the feeling just barely there and I had to scoot closer for the feeling to even register. We snuggled towards eachother, Zayn pulling the worn, threadbare afghan off the arm of the couch to drape over us.
It wasn't long before the sounds of the tv were muted and the den was hot and heavy with our labored breathing. Just as Zayn slipped his tongue inside my mouth and slid his hand along the small of my back, I heard chattering voices outside the walls.
Zayn hesitated, and I pulled back slightly. Before I could open my mouth to speak, Zayn pressed his finger up to my lips.
"Shh--listen," he murmured.
"Mommy, can we go play with Brookie?" I heard Safaa's eager squeal.
I smiled inwardly, my heart warming.
"Not now, honey, leave them be in the den. When they come out soon you can play, okay? Have some breakfast."
There was a pause.
Once Trisha said those words, Zayn slithered against me, pushing my body up the side of the sofa and peppering white-hot kisses up the side of my neck and along my cheekbone. I moaned quietly against his lips, our bodies converging.
With our hips pressed flush against eachother, Zayn's kisses dipped below my collarbone and soon I was a tangle of straps and fabric as I stripped off my tank top and he his t shirt.
Where it was awkward being seen in just my underwear the day before, this time it just felt.... Liberating.
Before things had a chance to get too heated, Zayn sealed the gap between us with a deep kiss and an "I love you so much, babe", wriggling out of his boxers.
I laughed breathlessly, not having a chance to reciprocate as I palmed his length and he gave a strained guttural
groan. Taking his dick in my hand, I rearranged the afghan for at least partial privacy. I started pumping up and down, making sure to work up a nice lather of spit and pre-cum, since I had read somewhere that skin on skin contact was uncomfortable. His muted moans and stifled cries were such a turn on I felt a sheen of sweat break out on my sticky, clammy skin.
When his moans were becoming more guttural and I had to giggle and clamp my hand over his mouth, I felt his heavy breathing silent and I lowered my head to his member, which lay hot and hard against my thigh. I threw my hair back over my shoulder and wrapped my lips around him, looking above to see his eyelids flutter closed, his lips pursed. I ravished in the taste of him, using my hands and my tongue until Zayn started to unravel below me. I licked one last bold stripe up his shaft, pumping up and putting more pressure towards his head until, before I knew it, he had came in three powerful spurts onto my chest. Zayn gritted his teeth until his release was through, pulling me down for another deep kiss, tasting himself on my lips.
He lightly pushed me down on my back, supporting my leg over his shoulder and crawling backwards. He reached forward, sucking on my collarbone until a dark purple love bite formed, kissing down my stomach and wiping off the white, sticky mess on my abdomen as he went. When he landed on my pubic bone, he sucked harder, lower, his tongue slipping at my very entrance. I clenched needily, raising my hips towards Zayn's throaty laugh. His scruff tickled the insides of my thighs as he blew his cool breath out, making goosebumps prickle up in his wake.
"Zayn," I whined, my moans becoming louder and louder-- but it wasn't anything a heavy hand to the mouth couldn't silence.
"Shhh, Brooke," Zayn grunted, kissing his way back up my pelvis.
"I love the way you say my name," I murmured, in a trance with his tongue tracing lazy circles on my body.
Suddenly, Zayn paused when the door to the den opened across the hall and above the stairs.
I shot him a panicked glance, wrapping myself in the blanket and hurriedly putting my clothes back on. Zayn shoved his boxers on his sweaty legs.
"Zayn?" Trisha called, the light above us flicking on.
Oh my god.
YOU ARE READING
Half a Heart
Fanfiction"If you could spare an hour or so, we'll go for lunch down by the river." This made me think about what would happen if I actually DID have lunch with zayn by a river, which would be totally adorable, so I decided to make a sort of one shot/ mini fa...
