A.M. ↠ zarry AU

rathe

rathe

/rāT͟H, raTH/

adjective

prompt and eager.

×××

Harry was laying on his side, his back to Zayn, breathing heavy, fingers and toes curled up around the sheets as Zayn slowly rocked into him. His eyes were softly shut, arm curled under the pillow for extra support and his hair fell over half of his face, with some strand tickling at the corners of his parted mouth but Harry didn't care to move it out of the way.

He pushed his hips back, meeting Zayn's lazy thrusts and cried out, half into the pillow that was pressed into the right side of his face. Zayn reached up and pulled Harry's hair out of the way so that his face was now exposed to the fresh air. He gathered it in his free hand before placing his other on Harry's hip, curling his fingers around his hip bone.

In between the breathy moans, Harry stuck out his tongue to wet his slowly drying lips and brought Zayn's arm up to wrap around his waist and have his hand rest against his heart, feeling the fast pace of it.

Zayn pushed against Harry even more and placed kisses to his exposed neck, just below his ear, turning him on more than he already was and increasing the volume of his moans. Harry let out a guttural moan and arch his neck and back. He lifted his left arm to wrap around Zayn's neck and back of his head so that he could pull him into a messy kiss, all the while having Zayn's hand slowly descend to Harry's erection which was hidden by the tangled sheets.

*

"Would your ... spouse ever suspect anything?" Harry blurted out loud. He hadn't meant to, but the thought had been playing on his mind for some time now and whatever questions Harry had thrown at him so far, Zayn had politely answered. So he hoped that this 'after sex' chat, that he had grown accustomed to, wouldn't go any differently than he had thought.

Most of Harry's married clients not only treat him as their escort, but also as their confidant or personal psychologist. Very often after sex when they're laying on his chest they voice their thoughts out loud and vent about what their husband did or didn't do, how happy they once were, how 'the old them' would never dream of being this adulterous, how they're worried that one day they might find out that they've been unfaithful or something of the sort.

Zayn doesn't look displeased by the question, and even if he is, he does not show it at all. He holds out his left hand to look at his wedding band and twists it around with his thumb. He pouts slightly, "I don't know I wouldn't think so because of the time I leave and get back home." He looks over at Harry whose green eyes are bright with curiosity. "She... we've been a bit distant lately."

She. He has a wife.

Harry folds his pillow to lift his head so that Zayn has his full attention.

"Is that why 'this'," Harry points between himself and Zayn, "started?"

Zayn takes in a deep breath and pulls the sheets off of his body, finding his boxers and putting them back on. "Yeah, partially. Loneliness consumed me and, curiosity just urged me to do something about it." He looked over to Harry to see him listening intently. "We're trying to fix it. Meet up for marriage counselling as often as we can. It's hard to compromise because she works too. We met when we were both twenty - four." Zayn stares ahead and for a moment it's just him and his thoughts in the room. "I thought she was the most beautiful thing I ever saw - as cliché as that sounds... It's so weird because I didn't get anxious, have my palms get sweaty or anything like that. I was just really excited and wanted to get to know her immediately." Zayn laughs, remembering his younger self. "Now it's like we don't even know each other..." Zayn's voice trailed off along with his thoughts. He cleared his throat and looked at Harry who's also found his boxers to slip back into and is now sitting upright with one of his legs pulled towards his chest, his chin resting on his knee. "Sound familiar?" Zayn forced a smile. "You must have heard stories like this many times in your... 'career.'"

"Yeah." Harry bowed his head and nodded. But he didn't want to categorise Zayn with those other people.

Zayn doesn't mention her name out of embarrassment. He knows what he's doing is wrong, it's the ultimate form of betrayal and some nights, when he's not with Harry, the guilt eats him up alive - but he just can't help coming back to him... It's as if Harry is his own personal drug that he can't quit no matter how hard he tries. He watches Harry, who still has his eyes pointing at the bed, seeming to be in his own world with a slight pout and frown on his face. He's rubbing slowly at the tattoo above his foot with his thumb and Zayn wonders if he's growing bored of the same story he's heard previous times before.

Zayn feels appreciated by Harry in a way. He knows that it's just his job to make him feel that way, but he can't help but hold a soft spot in his heart for him. Both men dress themselves in silence and once done Zayn turns to Harry "I'll see you... around?" He avoids saying the word 'tomorrow' unsure if he's going to stick to his word or not.

Harry agrees with a nod, doing up the last few buttons of his shirt and immediately breaks eye contact with Zayn to put his shoes on, leaving him to silently leave the hotel room once he's left Harry's money on the table.