Why? ✘ z.h.

So

So Zayn and I talked for a bit...

~So.

"You can't... Read me?" I asked, sitting next to Zayn hesitantly. "No, I can't." He replied, shifting to look directly at me. "And it's annoying. Very, annoying." I chuckled at his unhappy pout, looking out into the beautiful forest that surrounded us. Suddenly, my blood rushed through my veins like rockets, my heart pounded uncomfortable against my rib cage, and small beads of sweat dripped down my forehead and onto the floor.

My breath hitched in my throat as a few cold breaths hit my neck, and I looked in my peripheral vision at the man whom was blowing them. Zayn rested his head in my neck, breathing deeply through his nose, and smiling to himself. "You smell nice, Niall." He said simply, and I could feel the blush creeping up my chest to my cheeks.

"We should re-dye your hair, Niall." Zayn suggested, twirling locks of my blonde/brown hair in his fingers and smirking. "I-I don't I-. . ." I sputtered, lost in the way he tugged my hair gently. I was getting slightly aroused, my member hardening in my pants a bit. Zayn surely noticed, I felt his cheeks stretch into a smirk against my neck, and he reached his free hand down to tease the top of my waistband.

He dipped his fingertips into the band teasingly, and my breath hitched again. "Excited, are we?" Zayn breathed on my ear, his cold breath making a shiver slide down my spine. Zayn's fingertips grazed my now fully erect member through the thin material of my boxers, and I groaned low in my throat at the cold to contrast my hot, clammy skin.

"Uh-uh," he tutted, "Don't be greedy, my dear Nialler." Zayn was suddenly gone then, standing at the bathroom door. "Time to dye." He said, and I almost mistook his offer for death, then remembered my hair. I stood up shakily, my member still hard, and walked into the large bathroom.

There was a chair in front of the vanity, and I sat down as Zayn got the dye, hairdryer, brush, and other things for it. Zayn took the small black comb and began running it through my hair roughly, getting the tangles out and making me more aroused. It was like Zayn was pulling my hair again. Zayn saw my pupils dilate some in the mirror, and I gulped when he tugged a few loose strands of my hair lightly.

"Like that, baby?" Zayn said in my ear again, my member growing by the second. I would've laughed out loud if Zayn's voice wasn't so mesmerizing, and he kept tugging my hair until the point where I was painfully hard. "Zayn," I whined, looking at the olive-skinned boy in the mirror. "What, Niall? What do you want?" He replied, running his hands through my hair and then down my chest.

I sucked in a sharp breath when he ran over my nipples, and I could feel them hardening under my shirt. Then Zayn's hands left my torso (I whined at the loss of contact) and he was sitting on the edge of the vanity-sink thing. "Well? I need an answer, Ni." Zayn teased, swinging one of his legs back and forth slowly. That dumb smug smile was on his face, and his leg hit my knee.

"Eh," I whined, "help me Zaynie. . ." I hated being this submissive, but I was hard, and needed relief. In an instant, Zayn was on my lap. I was a bit confused, but then he started grinding down on me. My hands flew to his hips to help him move, and that smile was still on his face. Arousal flooded through my veins, and I hadn't realized small moans were falling from my lips until Zayn put his hand over my mouth.

Then he stopped moving, stood up, and proceeded to dye my hair, leaving me horny, hard, and in pain in his bathroom.