VOTE | COMMENT
A turbulent dance between the kidnapper and the hostage was sparked by the warm sun of cold weather like in the tempest of disdain, which illuminated the warmth throughout the entire room.
Zayn smirked as he drew his last cigarette pull and dropped it into the ashtray. He softly beckoned Harry to approach by tapping the floor with the tip of his shoes.
He softly mumbled, "Come here," his voice calm yet commanding. "My lovely Fiore."
Something burned in Harry's core as he felt hotness all over his body. He paused, unsure of what he might find if he went through with it. But something about Zayn's demeanor, a glint of earnestness, drove him to take a cautious step forward.
He approached the couch with caution, the gap between them gradually shrinking.
As he got closer, a surge of conflicting feelings washed over him—anger, perplexity, desire—all whirling together in a chaotic whirlwind.
Harry's arms gradually relaxed with each stride, his fingers no longer grasping protectively at his body. By the time he got to the couch, he was naked and vulnerable, but with a new feeling.
Zayn's gaze traveled from Harry's eyes to his naked body, soaking in every inch, but there was an unexpected fondness in his look.
He swiftly extended his arm and draped it around Harry's waist. Harry yelped as he stumbled over him, his hands on Zayn's shoulder for support.
"Zayn–" Harry's breath hitched, his body tensing at the unexpected contact.
Harry's spine tingled as the coldness of Zayn's palm mixed with the conflicting emotions whirling inside of him.
As Zayn pulled Harry closer, their bodies aligned, and Harry's waist reached the same level as Zayn's eyes.
Harry's gaze met Zayn's, their eyes locked in wordless feelings.
He couldn't ignore the strong attraction he felt for Zayn, a magnetic force that defied rationality.
Zayn's grip on his waist tightened ever so slightly, anchoring Harry to him.
"My beautiful fiore," Zayn said softly, his voice barely audible, full of amazement and reverence.
The words were poised in the air, creating an electric charge between them. Harry felt his rage fade, to be replaced with a weakness he hadn't expected. He took a hefty breath as he shudders from Zayn's cold breath.
"Zayn- Ah" Harry wove his fingers in Zayn's hair and let out a moan as Zayn placed his lips against Harry's navel.
Zayn's fingers touched Harry's skin as the distance between them shrunk, sending chills down to Harry's spine.
Zayn hummed softly, "Shush," as he gave one final peck on Harry's navel and pushed Harry out of the way.
"Now, hurry up and get in the shower." Zayn said as he busy himself on some sort of documents.
Incredulous and angry, Harry flushed his face as he opened his mouth to speak as he watched Zayn's abrupt action. His brows furrowed in anger as he tightened his fists. He stomped his foot as he rushed towards the bathroom.
Harry sighed and snuck one more look at the secret book under his pillow before he shuts the door to the bathroom, silence filling the space.
The remnants of their conversation still reverberated, and with each passing second, their unsaid bond becomes deeper.
YOU ARE READING
Devil's Fiore | Zarry
Fanfiction"My precious fiore, who taught you to beg like that?" "Please, don't hurt me." "Begging like that only makes me want to do even worse things to you. Don't you know it's a natural human instinct to want to make yourself feel better by making someone...
