Your Creation • Zarry

20. Me too, babe

An hour later I woke up to Zayn knocking on my hotel door but he did it in our secret code, which was to the tune of "Come Together" by The Beatles. It had sort of become our thing and we thought it was clever because it was this double entendre; not just come together but also cum together.

"What do you want?" I whispered, opening the door just a crack and peering at him.

"Can I come in?"

"Not now, I'm tired."

"Just give me twenty minutes."

"No."

"Please?"

It was late and I was exhausted but the way that he said please and looked at me with this big doe eyes got me and I was too much of a sucker for my own good, so I opened the door and allowed him to walk inside. I had been probably minutes away from falling asleep before he showed up and I definitely was not in the mood to do anything sexual because I had zero energy left in me, but I did deserve some attention, even if it was for only twenty minutes.

"It's too late for anything," I told him, climbing back into bed and pulling the covers up to my chest.

"I know. I'm sorry, but I thought about it. Louis said something like, you off to bed now too since Harry went? If every time just you and I go to bed early from chilling it's gonna start to get suspicious that we don't hang out with the lads like we normally do."

I hadn't really thought about it that way but he was right. And fuck Louis, he just had to go ahead and decide to become observant and notice things like that. Couldn't he have just stayed oblivious and made my life easier? I sighed and leaned my head back into the pillow.

"Alright, fair point."

Maybe Zayn was being a lot smarter about this than I was because if it were up to me I'd just shout about it from the rooftops and not give a single fuck. At first the sneaking around was the exciting part, but now it felt more like an annoyance and it didn't help that I was at the point where I was allowing my feelings to get in the way far too much and I started noticing it.

Zayn sat down on the edge of the bed and slowly traced his fingertips along my tattooed arm.

"Let me make you feel good," he said.

His voice dripped like velvet as he spoke but he wasn't looking at me in a sexual way this time. Instead Zayn had this soft, half-smiling, dopey look on his face, the look he'd get whenever he was both drunk, stoned and tired at the same time and I knew it well, but usually when we found ourselves alone together it was raw, aggressive, passionate and slightly painful but in that moment he looked innocent and genuine and I actually found him to be pretty adorable so I nodded and scooted over to give him some room to lay.

Zayn crawled into bed beside me and pushed my body onto its side so that my back was facing him. He always claimed the big spoon position, which I decided that I liked because I felt comforted and protected. His hands started traveling up my back and to my shoulders, massaging my muscles both tenderly and with just the right amount of firmness and I let out a groan, realizing just how much my back hurt.

"Does this feel alright?" he asked.

I smiled to myself as I felt my body started to relax and sink into the bed comfortably. I had massive back problems ever since I was a kid and had a paper route, which gave me shitty posture and every time I got a massage I could feel the tension in my muscles and just how bad it was, but the way his thumbs moved in circles on my shoulder blades not only felt good, but felt even better because I knew it was Zayn's hands touching me. I hadn't seen this type of sensuality coming from him, but it felt incredible. In fact, I think I even preferred it to having sex, but don't quote me on that.

"That feels amazing," I replied faintly, my eyes fluttering closed, feeling even more tired than I was before.

I felt the tip of his fore finger drag along my skin just then as if he were writing something in-between my shoulder blades but I couldn't make out what it was that he wrote, but it was definitely some kind of phrase.

"Guess what I just wrote."

"Uh, I dunno. Do it again," my voice responded lazily.

I was nearly half asleep by now, but I tried to feel out the directions in which his finger was traveling but instead it just gave me goosebumps and I could hardly pay attention. I lingered on the thought once more, on the verge of sleep, but I still couldn't figure it out and it just felt like I was in another dream.

"I'm no good at this, I'm too tired."

"Can I stay?" Zayn said lowly as his hand traveled down my bicep, raising the hairs on my arm.

"What a great song," I said with a small smile, knowing that he knew just how much I loved that tune and if I wasn't so sleepy I would have asked him why he wrote that.

Zayn continued to rub up and down my arm with one hand and kneaded the small of my back with the other and I could feel myself drifting deeper and deeper into sleep as my body felt lighter and lighter, like I was morphing and becoming one with the bed.

"That...feels...phenomenal..."

"You deserve it. I just want to tell you that I appreciate you. I really do. I don't know what I'd do without you," said Zayn.

"You'll never have to find out..." I replied, drifting off.

I felt Zayn lean in and gently kiss the nape of my neck and it was in that moment that me and Zayn's relationship moved into this different sort of place. What once started out as a close friendship had turned into explicit sexuality and rawness, a secret desire we were comfortable exploring with each other, but now I was beginning to feel a sense of sensuality coming from him and I could feel it in the way that he touched me so gently, handling me with care. It was so methodical and natural almost, like he just knew exactly where to go and what to do.

"Wish you could stay till the morning..."

That was the last thing I said before I fell fast asleep, but I think I heard Zayn whisper back to me before he left my room.

"Me too, babe."