Need • Zarry

7. Little secret

It was the first night in weeks that Harry actually slept soundly. He wasn't infested by anxiety or tormented by the perpetual feelings of shame and liability. He didn't toss and turn all night just wondering what was wrong with him because nothing about what had gone on between Zayn and Harry felt wrong to him while it was happening.

Feels so good. So, so good.

His eyes eventually fluttered open and he reached over to the nightstand, tapping the alarm off the next morning, thinking about how the day would go and if Zayn was awake yet. But Harry was still unsure of what to say, unsure as to whether or not he was going to be able to formulate his thoughts into coherent sentences.

Harry crept out of his bedroom and paused outside of Zayn's door, peaking into his room slightly to see if he was up. He wasn't. Instead Zayn was fast asleep under the covers adorned with ships, wrapped up beneath them and looking especially cozy.

Harry noticed the way that the subtle sunlight streamed in through the window and shined upon his face just right, onto his brown skin, the way that his lips were slightly pursed and Harry thought that Zayn looked so peaceful laying there like that, so still and calm.

Precious.

Harry hopped in the shower and began scrubbing at the faint scent of wine that was seeping through his pores, lathering his broad, toned body with his coconut scented body wash and he thought more about the night before.

He closed his eyes and revisited the way that Zayn's lips felt upon his, the way that his warm, wet tongue filled up his mouth and the dozens of tremors that surged through his body, through his veins, whenever he was touched by him. And Harry reimagined the way that Zayn's fingertips gently grazed over the tip of his dick through his pants and the way that he leaked quickly having been touched with such precision.

Harry's large, soapy hands were working their way across his abs, down to his pelvis and they brushed over his flaccid dick, traveling down to his balls and he rubbed them out, cleaning himself thoroughly. And he felt himself twitch just then; his pulse throbbed once, then twice, and after several seconds he looked down and saw that his dick was starting to harden and rise, becoming semi erect when he remembered the way that the skin from Zayn's hands felt on him.

He pressed his lips together, feeling the need to just touch himself a little bit then and there so Harry proceeded to tug on his cock, feeling it stiffen even more when the image of him pumping through Zayn's closed fist came swirling back around.

The cascading stream of hot water burned on his skin just right as he stood beneath the shower head, letting the drops fall down his body in rivers as he began to stroke his dick harder, slowly at first, how Zayn did it. A tighter grip, in and out of his fist. His cock pumping. In and out, in and out. The head of his dick was plump and reddening again, building with the same sensitivity when Harry recollected how Zayn had done this to him.

Shit, he did it so well.

Harry increased the speed of his strokes, holding onto the mental images from the night before and after a minute more he started to tug on himself harder, faster and he leaned forward, bracing himself with his other hand up against the shower wall.

Wanna come so hard. Wish Zayn was here.

His breaths hitched as he prepared for the climax, feeling the intensity heighten and he moved his fist over his dick faster, ready and waiting for it. Waiting to come.