not okay {ziam}

eleven*

{eleven}

would this be the last of me?

-

i can't quite put my finger on the color of zayn's eyes, they look as though someone had shaded along the rims with black charcoal and let them bleed dry into a hazel color. the chocolate orbs that swim in his vision rarely give much honesty, maybe a flicker of brown indignation, or a brief flutter of his lashes when he climaxes.

suddenly, i lose myself in the chilling darkness of them when he wraps his soft lips around my cock, his knees curled up on the floor and his hands masterfully clasped around the base of me. the morning light shines in from my puny window onto his tattooed beauty, yet i can't help but to stumble down the rabbit hole of my own delirium. the golden flecks in his eyes that glimmer with promiscuity or the glacial way he gazes at me every so often.

he seems to get off on how easy it is for me to come, or how i lose myself when he laps his tongue across my flesh to swallow me.

after we're both spent, i tug some loose pants over my hips and he detaches from me without hesitation, throwing on one of my shirts mistakenly. i don't correct him, because his body is maddeningly striking now that i see it in the sunlight. the delicate designs etched into the left of his navel or his gorgeous, nimble shoulders littered with unending patterns. the faint words written across his stark ribs, as i'm flashed with memories of him from the night before spread out on my bed and shuddering with an orgasm.

he isn't as bruised as i am from the assault of his mouth, he isn't as attached as i am to him — simply, he is just getting ready to leave me high and dry.

"i didn't expect you to stay." i breathe out, as he zips up his jeans in one swift motion of pure ease. his shoes are barely on, as if he is trying to vacate as quickly as possible, sticking his hands into his pockets in search for his crushed packet of marlboros.

"me either." he shrugs apathetically, a cigarette dangling from lips that were once around me minutes ago, "i guess i can't resist you," he gets out and my heart thuds with his passionless insincerity, hating how awfully controlled he is.

i'm completely desperate, sitting on the edge of my bed, feeling the sweat dry across my skin, "please don't string me on by saying that, i don't think i can handle it."

he turns on the tap, wetting his hand and running it through his disheveled hair, voice steady, "'m not, don't mistake my lack of facial expressions for not being genuine." but he's so cold when he says it, so uncaring as he removes his presence from my room within a matter of a few blinks, his dust now setting.

"zayn, i... i don't mean to be precious, but you've sent me into a tailspin here..." i ramble as leans over the stove top i never use, spurting with an unsure flame. he lights the end of his cigarette as i hear it crackle, the scent of strong tobacco filling the small confines of my room.

he elegantly twists around, silver plumes of smoke emitting from his mouth, "i didn't do anything, lee." he says, batting his pretty eyes at me.

"you know what i'm talking a-about. you're my first, but i didn't ever consider it being... this way." i confess, not sure as to why, stumbling over myself for his undivided attention. his eyebrow quirks with faint intrigue, the stick in his fingers letting out an unwavering cloud of puff.

"are you ashamed?" he asks as he sucks, the embers at the end sparkling with an orange hue.

i decide to be honest, because i'm absolutely defeated, heart thundering across my fingertips with guilt, "i-it's not shame, i just... don't know how to feel. i'm confused, because mostly i... i can't deny how i feel about you." as the words gush out of my mouth, i immediately regret giving myself to him. the brutal way he glances at me as the tarred smoke peeks from the cracks of his teeth, uncaring of my vulnerability and feasting on my insecurity. my frail hands clutch my knees and his free fingers curl around his tiny waist, undoubtedly disappointed with me.