Punk One Direction One Shots

Zayn for Cierra

There were many perks to dating Zayn Malik. Sure he was sketchy, sure he looked like a criminal, and there was the whole drug situation, but really, he was the best thing to happen to me. He took care of me, he loved me. He gave me the sense that I mattered and no one else in the world did when he looked at me with that look. Not to mention that fact that he was loaded. He was swimming in cash, which he used to by me my own library. He had a floor to ceiling, perfectly stocked library with a rolling ladder. It was ever book worm’s fantasy.

But my fantasy right now wasn’t about the library; it was about what was inside the library, about a book. I didn’t by the book, a nice lady a work lent it to me after saying that I looked like I could use it. Under that circumstance I thought that maybe it would be, I don’t know a self-help novel, or a cook book, something along those lines. I wasn’t expecting 50 Shades of Grey to be left on my desk with a sticky note saying have fun.

I was hesitant to open it. I didn’t know when would be a great time, so when Zayn was out of the house for a while, I sprung on the idea. I was submerged into whatever was going on. I liked the idea of control; I liked the idea of Christian Grey. I found myself wondering what it would feel like to have Zayn control me. Each page got more and more intense to the point that I couldn’t keep it in.

Totally absorbed in the novel, I didn’t here Zayn come in, call my name, or come up stairs. I didn’t feel him in the room staring at me and my slowly unraveling body, but damn could I feel his anger. There were waves of jealously crashing onto me.

Zayn tore the book out of my hands, scanning the cover and blurb on the back. “I thought maybe you were asleep, so I come up stairs like the good boyfriend I am to lay with you and what do I find? You reading this. Well, let’s just see how good Christian Grey is.” He growled picking me up out of the chair.

“Jump!” he ordered and I already could tell I was going to enjoy this.  I obeyed wrapping my legs around his waist, using my calf muscles to support me. Zayn fumbled with the door to our bedroom but managed to get it open, having me kick it shut.

He threw me onto the bed, staring me down with that look. His amber eyes were glossy, I could tell he was high on something; he bit his lip, chewing on metal.  Zayn rubbed his hand across his jaw in a thoughtful manner before speaking again. “Undress. Don’t touch yourself until I tell you to. I want you to think of me while I’m gone. Think of me absolutely wrecking you. Think of the time when we broke your glasses because we went to hard. Think of that.” Zayn disappeared, but didn’t leave the house; his car was still outside from what I could tell.

I thought of him, like he said. I undressed, like he said. I took off my glasses, remembering like he said. I was tempted to touch myself, offer a bit of relief. My fingers curled over my stomach, clutching at the skin to resist the temptation. Zayn appeared before I gave in, which I hoped was a good thing. “Good girl.” He purred, setting some things down at the foot of the bed.

He slid off his sweater revealing his tattooed and toned chest to me. He hastily undid his dark skinny jeans leaving him in his boxers, the tent in the fabric quite obvious. He groaned loudly. “Now, let’s see what we can do about this, hum?”

Looking around at the bottom of the bed, he messed around with the items, deciding finally on a pair of handcuffs. Grabbing my arms, he handcuffed either hand to a bed post. “You like that Christian Grey huh? You like that shit? Well, let’s just see how well he treats you!” he kept grunting as he pulled out another toy.