It seemed almost as if his body had been ready - even waiting - to be united with Zayn's. As if it was only the driving rhythm of his possession that could appease the throbbing ache now building slowly and insidiously far within him.
Tempting him to put his arms round him and offer his parted lips to the kisses he'd once denied Zayn. To arch his body towards him, taking him ever more deeply into him in the ultimate surrender.
Above all to pursue and capture those incomprehensible but exquisite sensations that seemed to be hovering, tantalizing him, just beyond his reach, and so discover for the first time the reality of passion's physical conclusion.
And then, just as Niall realized, stunned, that this might be an actual possibility, it was suddenly over. He heard him cry out hoarsely and felt his body shudder into his. For a moment, he lay still, Zayn's face buried into the crook of his neck, his slackened weight pressing Niall into the mattress and Niall conquered an impulse to lift a hand and stroke his sweat dampened black hair.
How can I even think of something like that? He asked himself incredulously. When I hate him? And when I've told him so?
Yet was that really what he felt? Or did he only hate the senses that had so nearly betrayed him?
Before I met him I never knew, he thought. Never imagined - how it must be...
After a while Zayn moved, lifting himself silently away from the blonde. He got up from the bed, picked up his discarded robe and walked across to the door, Niall guessed must lead to his bathroom.
As soon as he was alone, Niall hastily adjusted his nightgown, pulling up the straps of the bodice and tugging the skirt over his legs so that he was reasonably covered again. Then, heart racing, he waited.
Zayn was not gone for long. When he emerged, Niall saw thankfully that his robe was now wrapped around him. He came back to the bed, not hurrying, and lay down beside the blonde on his back, arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.
The Pakistani turned his head slowly and looked at him. "I hope this time you experienced less discomfort, and that you did not find my demands too excessive?"
Niall touched the tip of his tongue to his dry lips. "No, I-I didn't."
"Then that is a beginning at least." He said. "Even if not the one I hoped for."
Niall took a deep breath, trying desperately to pull himself together. To regain control of his thoughts as well as his emotions. "May I go now, please? Or do you - want...?"
"No." Zayn said harshly. "You may leave."
He slid off the bed, retrieving the shawl on his way to the door, enfolding himself in its softness, even keeping it round him as he climbed back into bed in his own room. It was far too warm a night for it to be necessary but he found it oddly comforting just the same.
But why should he need comfort? After all, he knew now the worst to expect and that it was - endurable, wasn't it? Or even dangerously more than endurable, he thought, remembering the seductive caress of his hands and lips as they'd gentled his body, coaxing him towards the threshold of delight. And if he had refused to cross it with Zayn, he had only himself to blame. Or thank.
At any rate, it would not last for much longer. He was sure of that.
Zayn had made it clear that he had not found tonight particularly rewarding, Niall thought. So he would soon be looking for a more amenable girl to be - what had he called it? - a pillow friend.
Niall turned over restlessly, looking for a cooler place on his own pillow, which didn't seem friendly at all, remembering as he did so, the previous night and how Zayn had held him, lulling him to sleep in spite of himself.
The way too, that he had caressed and fondled him gently, while he slept. The touch of his hands and mouth on his skin tonight had actually convinced her of that, Niall thought, his body warming. Denial might be convenient but it was also pointless.
He was suddenly stifling in the shawl - and in the nightdress too, he decided, stripping himself of them both. Even the sheet across his body was more than he could stand .
The blonde was not just hot, either - he was on fire, every pulse beating a tattoo that etched the throbbing hunger filling his innermost being, and that even his comparative innocence could recognize was unsatisfied longing. A renewed awakening of his flesh that had been ignited the first time Zayn had lain with him.
I can't let myself want him, he told himself with a kind of desperation as his body twisted on the mattress. Not after the way he's treated me - after every terrible, vile thing that he's done. I must be going crazy to even contemplate it.
He sat bolt upright, trying to control the flurry of his breathing, to quell the tumult of his senses/
Sleep, he thought. Oh god, I really need to get some sleep. Then, tomorrow, I can forget this madness and begin again.
But he soon found that was not going to be as easy as he'd hoped. Half an hour later he was still awake, staring into the darkness, the sheet beneath him damp with perspiration.
He put his hand flat on his chest, touching the nipples softly, tentatively. Feeling them harden against his palms.
Is this how it's going to be - this agony of need each time? This longing for him to make me in some way - complete?
The question beat at his brain, or at the brain of the stranger he had suddenly become. This creature of sensations and yearning he did not even recognize.
Yet the alternative was to go to him - offer himself - and that was unthinkable. Wasn't it? Because what could he possibly say to him? What excuse could he even give?
Niall gave a little shaken sigh. Maybe words would be unnecessary, and his presence, returning to lie beside him in the night, would be enough.
Moving like an automaton, he climbed off the bed, reaching down for the shawl, letting its soft folds settle round his nakedness.
He went to the door, but as he began to open it, he heard not far away, the quiet sound of another door closing and froze. The blonde peeped cautiously through the narrow opening and saw Zayn, clad in jeans and polo shirt, coming down the passage towards him. He strode past without even a glance in the direction of his room and Niall stood in the darkness, waiting until the sound of his rapid footsteps faded.
He went back to the bed and lay down, trembling, telling himself he should be thankful that he had been spared the humiliation of arriving in Zayn's room to find it empty or - even worse - of bumping into him on the way out.
At the same time, he found himself wondering where the tanned man could possibly be going at this time of night. And why...
But that, he thought, is not my concern. It simply means I've been saved at the last minute from making another terrible mistake.
He pulled the covering sheet and turned over, but it was more than two hours before he finally fell asleep, exhausted from the solitary vigil of lying in the darkness, listening for the sound of his return.
While some instinct he'd not known he possessed warned him that he waited in vain.
...
Niall walked along the edge of the sea, small warm waves lapping around his feet. To a casual observer, if there'd been one about, he probably looked like a carefree lad in shorts and a sun top, happily enjoying a paddle in the sunshine.
Only he could know he was a seething mass of nerves.
It was a week since Zayn had walked past him and out into the night. Seven days and seven nights during which he'd been taught unequivocally just what it was to be the object of a man's passionate desire. And the exquisite agony of forcing himself to seem indifferent to Zayn's lovemaking.
Zayn sent for him each night - that went without saying. But he also came to his room in the drowsy afternoon siesta hours. Their encounters were prolonged and almost magically sensuous, with Zayn, at times, almost fiercely intent on wringing some kind of erotic response from his trembling, fevered flesh and at others enticing him with a tender yearning that almost stopped his heart, as if Niall's whole body had been created as an instrument for Zayn's pleasure.
And Niall lay beneath him, refusing to show any sign of emotion, even in the extremity of surrender when his desperate senses screamed for satisfaction.
He wanted to win, the blonde reminded himself when he was once again alone. He'd won him at cards, and now Zayn wished to complete his victory. His touch, his kisses, had one purpose - to prove that Niall was indeed a toy like any other in his experience. And if the blonde thought he meant more, then he was fooling himself.
In one matter Zayn was utterly scrupulous, however. He always used a sheath which, Niall supposed ruefully, was a kind of caring, if not the kind he had secretly begun to crave from the older man.
Niall was not proud of such blatant weakness, but he could not deny it either. Whenever Zayn was around he found himself watching him almost obsessively from behind the screen of his sunglasses, drinking in every inch of the lean body he'd once shrunk from.
But it was just sex - that was all, the blonde assured himself almost feverishly. Nothing more. So there were no deeper feelings involved. How could there be when he would always be the man who'd kidnapped the precious bottle blonde in order to take revenge?
Yet Zayn had somehow, against all odds, made Niall want him in return so much that his mind seemed to ache as well as his body.
Sometimes, in the night, when the blonde was back in his own room, he heard again the approach of the Pakistani's footsteps in the passage and sat up, lips parted breathlessly, staring at the door, willing it to open. and, by some miracle, for everything to change.
But it never did. Instead Mr. Malik simply walked on, leaving Niall still wondering. And sometimes crying inside.
Although he could admit now, in the brilliant sunshine, there were other matters apart from the strictly personal also preying on his mind.
For one thing, it had occurred to the Irishman that since his arrival no one, least of all Zayn himself, had mentioned his wife in any way.
And Niall's visits to Zayn's bedroom had revealed at a glance that he wasn't treasuring as much as one solitary souvenir of the woman who'd once shared it with him.
It was almost, Niall had decided, puzzled, as if the late Mrs. Malik had never existed.
Perhaps, the blue eyed man thought to himself, aware of a swift pang, he had loved her so much that he could not bear to be reminded, even marginally of the happiness they'd enjoyed together.
In addition, there was also the matter of the mysterious house in the olive grove, and its occupants, although Zayn's continuing presence had offered Niall no opportunity to return there and see if Shanaya and her mother had returned - if, of course, they had ever been away.
But Zayn had left that morning to fly to Athens on business, so Niall would be alone for ten days or more, as he'd sardonically informed the small blonde. And he was going to need something to distract him in Zayn's absence - if only to protect him against missing the tanned Pakistani too much.
Niall folded his arms round his body, shivering a little in spite of the heat. It was still a shock that he could even admit to such feelings - or confess inwardly that he'd hoped against to such feelings that he would invite him to accompany him on his trip.
As it was, Niall had made sure he was awake especially early that morning, going out on his balcony to listen for the sound of the high speed launch that would take Zayn across Bradford.
And he'd remained standing there long after the engine noise was no longer audible, staring at the azure glimmer of the sea in the distance over the top of the pines. Stared until his eyes blurred, and pressed a finger against his trembling mouth in case he called "Don't leave me. Don't go," into the empty air.
Just as a few hours before, when Zayn lay against the blonde in the aftermath of his climax, Niall had almost begged him. Don't send me away tonight. Let me stay with you. Make love to me again. Share with me what you feel. Teach me to be yours at last.
But he had bitten back the words, because he still couldn't acknowledge, even to himself, that withholding his body had been useless. That from the very beginning, when Zayn had been no more than a pirate smiling at him from the deck of a yacht, it had been his heart that was really in danger.
And each time he lay in those well toned and tanned arms, listening to the soft Urdu words he whispered to him as his hands roamed Niall's flesh with sensual expertise, he became more deeply lost in a longing that was so much more than physical.
Terrified that one night he might even whisper the words that must forever be a taboo between them. I love you...
"I didn't want this." He whispered in wretchedness. "i don't want this. Because I have no idea how to deal with it. Or with him. Or what I shall do when he decides to end it."
But at least he no longer feared that he would pass him on to another man, as Zayn had originally threatened to do. That, Niall supposed, was something he had to be thankful for.
Another positive move would be to stop tormenting himself like this over a situation that he could not change and instead try to assuage his own loneliness and heartache with another attempt to help a solitary child who needed a friend.
He walked out of the water, wincing a little as his feet encountered the hot sand, balancing quickly on one leg and then the other in order to resume the espadrilles he was carrying.
As he did so, he realized that he was not alone.That one of the security guards was stationed in the shade of the trees, watching him. As Niall walked up to the beach towards the track the guard straightened, throwing away the cigarette he'd been smoking.
Now, where had he sprung from? the blonde asked himself, annoyed.
His name was Yanni, and he was the only one of Zayn's watchdogs that Niall had come to dislike. The others faded away politely at his approach but Yanni always grinned insolently when he saw Niall, and the blonde seemed to encounter him in all sorts of unlikely places.
Niall was conscious of his gaze following him now as he started up the track. But Yanni never spoke to him, so there was no real complaint he could make about the bodyguard. He just knew he was glad when the bend in the path took him out of his line of sight.
The small Irishman wandered casually through the gardens, in case his progress was being marked from the house, but all seemed quiet and he was soon in the welcome concealment of the olive trees.
As their peace close round him again, it occurred to him that there were times when his life with Zayn assumed a kind of normality. When they actually talked together. Had a real conversation. Although these generally occurred over the meals they shared on the terrace.
He recalled Zayn had spoken one evening of all the miles his work caused him to travel and how he always waited with impatience to return home.
"But why here?" Niall had asked, greatly daring.
"Look around you." he said. "It is very beautiful, although you, of course, cannot be expected to find it so."
Yet I could, the blonde thought, if things were different. Then caught himself guiltily, knowing he was straying into forbidden territory.
He had shrugged. "It's certainly very secluded. Why is that?"
"It was my grandfather's decision." Zayn played with the stem of his wine glass. "He was first a businessman, but also a scholar. His chief study was the ancient mythology of our country, and for that he required privacy. So when he found this place and bought it, he made sure it was his alone."
Niall almost said, But what about the house in the olive grove? but stopped himself just in time.
"When the Germans came during the war, they considered it too small to be of strategic importance," he went on. "So my mother was able to take refuge here when my father joined the partisans. And I was born here."
"And you've always lived here?" Once more he thought about Zayn's wife.
"Here," the Pakistani said. "Or on Persephone." His mouth twisted. "There have been times in my life when it was safer to keep moving."
:I wish," Niall said, "that my father had felt the same way."
"Do you, my love?" He sent the blonde a meditative look across the candles. "Well, perhaps you cannot be blamed." Zayn paused. "You are shivering a little. Let us go into the parlor and listen to some music."
Usually it was classical music, drawn from the range of composers from Mozart to Stravinsky. Sometimes he chose the insistent beat of Greek bouzouki. But that night he'd slotted a very different CD into the music player, and Niall had recognized with astonishment some of the track he had danced to at the last late night party he had been a part of, in an emerald mini skirt and the platform shoes that his best friend had loaned him because Gail had refused point blank to let him have a pair, maintaining he'd sprain his ankle or worse.
Niall gave a swift sigh and Zayn looked at him, brows lifted. "You don't like this tune?"
"No, I love it. EDM is one of my favorite genres of music," He shook his head. "It just brought back - a memory, that's all."
The CD moved into the soft insidious rhythm of Donna Summers' 'Love to Love You, Baby,' and Zayn rose and came across to him. "And this also?" He queried.
"Well - no."
He switched off the central light, leaving the room lit by a single lamp, before taking Niall's hand and pulling him to his feet. "Then let us create a new one."
For a moment the blonde hesitated, self conscious, because it was a long time since he had danced and his male partners had been few anyway.
Then the music took him and he began to move in shy enticement, matching the lithe grace of the man dancing a couple of feet away from him. The man who reached for him and sent him spinning away from him, then brought him back, close to his chest, clasping his hips, his fingers splayed across the warmth of his shoulders through the fine linen of Zayn's shirt. The man Niall longed to kiss him as the music ended. To kiss him and carry him to his bed as the song seemed to promise.
But he had not done so, Niall thought as he looked up at the rustling silvery leaves of the olive trees and felt her throat tighten. And, for the first time, that night he had spent entirely alone.
When he arrived at the house, he saw Shanaya in the garden, listlessly pushing a little pram with a doll in it up and down the path. This time she was wearing a yellow lace dress which struck Niall as even less suitable or becoming that the last one.
He walked to the gate, smiling. "कैसी हो, Shanaya?" (how are you, Shanaya?)
The child paused warily, and her thumb stole to her mouth.
Niall went down on his haunches, his smile widening in warm encouragement. "Do you remember me? From the other day?"He pointed at himself. "Niall."
There was silence, then Shanaya made a first hesitant attempt at the name.
"Well done." Niall laughed and clapped his hands. He was rewarded with a smile from the little girl, fugitive at first, then more confident, lightening up the small face in a way that seemed curiously familiar. And which tugged all too potently at his heartstrings.
"You again." The voice came sharply from behind him, and Niall rose and turned to confront the child's mother, who'd apparently emerged from another part of the grove and was standing, hands on hips, her sloe eyes snapping.
She was wearing a blue dress today, ts bodice buttoned awry over her full breasts and the skirt creased. Her hair looked disheveled and she was holding a lighted cigarette.
Looking a mess was one thing, Niall thought, his mouth tightening. Going off on some errand, leaving Shanaya to play alone, was quite another.
He took a deep breath, keeping his smile resolutely in place.
"Why are you here, Malik's woman?" The demand was sulky. "He send you? Why he not come?"
Niall bit his lips, wanting to scream that he was not a goddamn woman and he was definitely not Zayn's. Thought he wished otherwise. "Mr. Malik is away - on business in Athens."
"Athens, no, no no. Maybe he has a woman there. Real woman," she added scornfully. "No pale. No skinny - like you."
Niall felt his color rise. "Maybe." he agreed evenly. "But I came to visit Shanaya, not discuss Mr. Malik's affairs."
"Why you visit?" The woman came nearer , tossing away her cigarette end. "You think you make friend of daughter her papa like you better, eh?" The full mouth curled. "I don't think so."
Niall was very still. "Her - papa?" He repeated slowly.
"You not know?" There was real malice now. "You make baby with Malik, be sure you give him son or he build house for you, hide you and girl baby too. Forget her."
Niall wanted to cry out, I don't believe you. You're lying.
Instead, he turned and looked at Shanaya, and saw the solemn mouth curve once more into that slow, entrancing smile. And knew, with a sinking heart, why it had seemed so familiar.
Realized, too, why he had been warned to keep away. Because he'd been intended to remain in total ignorance about Malik's discarded mistress and his forgotten illegitimate child. His unwanted daughter.
Niall said quietly. "I understand. I-I'm sorry I intruded."
The girl came nearer. Her voice became ingratiating. "You tell Malik that Soula say come see his girl. Each day I dress her - make fine for her papa. Each day he stay away - see his friends - his women. Not her. Never her. She cry. He not hear. Not care." She paused. "You come. Talk - play with Shanaya - so you can say to him how good, how pretty. Maybe in bed he listen to you."
Words of instant negation rose of Niall's lips, but when he looked back at Shanaya he knew they would never be uttered. That he could simply walk away and not return - no matter how much hurt this unbearable truth might be causing him.
Because there was a small, vulnerable girl who was being hurt far more. Who needed the companionship and care that neither her father nor her mother seemed prepared to offer.
And for that reason, he could not turn his back.
Niall said abruptly. "I'll come back tomorrow, missus. Teach her to play a game with her ball. But not those clothes, please. Shorts and a tee shirt."
To the child, watching hopefully through the gate, Niall said more gently, searching for the correct words. "Shanaya, play with me?" Then turned swiftly and went before he could be tormented by another glimpse of that smile.
He walked fast, head bent, staring down at the ground with eyes that saw nothing.
Zayn, he thought, pain twisting inside him. How could you do this - you with your sense of family? Your own child - your little girl - how can you keep her here and ignore her even if you no longer want her mother?
Nothing you've done to me is anywhere near as cruel as this.
Niall thought of Shanaya waiting each day. Hoping...
All dressed up and nowhere to go...
He shook himself, forcing back his tears.
Well, that child was not going to end up emotionally damaged if he had anything to do with it.
When Zayn returned, Niall would confront him. Brave his undoubted anger and remind him of his paternal responsibilities. Tell him that, for one thing, his daughter was sometimes left completely alone in that deserted spot.
If her mother's not prepared to look after her properly, he should employ a nanny.
For a moment he was haunted by an image of Zayn and his former mistress together, passionately entwined, and bit his lip hard as he wondered how they had met and become involved.
Soula might have grown blowzy since that time, but she was still good looking in a blatantly sensual way, and Niall could see why Zayn would have been attracted.
Although that did not necessarily mean he'd intended their association to result in a child or welcomed the birth when it came.
But it does explain why he's so careful to use contraception's when we're together,Niall told himself forlornly. It's not to protect me, but to ensure that he doesn't repeat his mistake.
"And does it also follow that you have no wish to bear me a child?"
His words - making it seem as if the decision was Niall's to make.
The blonde found himself wondering why this total estrangement from Soula had come about. Had he become ashamed of the liaison, aware that he'd let his body rule his brain? Or had it ended with some tumultuous quarrel which had turned him implacably against his former lover
Whatever the cause, it's hardly likely he'll ever discuss it with me, Niall thought, sighing. Because Zayn didn't account for his actions. He just - decided and that was it. I'm the living proof of that.
He stopped for a moment, leaning against the trunk of an olive tree, aware of the scrape of its gnarled bark through his thin clothing.
But she'll still know as much about him as I do, Niall thought wretchedly. Will be aware of every intimate detail. The birthmark like a tiny dark rose on his shoulder-blade. The heat, the strength of him as he moves to his climax and the huskiness of his voice when he comes.
Each time I see her I'll have to remember that, and learn somehow to endure it. But I also have to think of Shanaya shut behind that gate on her own. It's her well being that has to matter now, not my jealousy of her mother or her resentment of me.
And if I can somehow persuade Zayn that his daughter needs him, and doesn't deserve to be hidden away like this, then perhaps my time here won't be such a complete disaster after all.
And if I keep telling myself that, I may even come to believe it.
an/ it took me hours to write this. lol
it's 1:05 am and i am updating when I really should be sleeping. :P
ANYWAYS, DID YOU GUYS HEAR ABOUT SOLO NIALL RISING?? IT'S HAPPENING. MY DREAM IS COMING TRUE. FINALLY A SOLO NIALL ALBUM. NO OFFENCE BUT 5 ALBUMS AND NIALL'S SOLOS ARE STILL FUCKING SHORT, HE REALLY DESERVES A SOLO ALBUM. AND TO EVERYONE WHO THINKS HE CAN'T DO IT AND BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH, YOU SAID THE SAME FOR ZAYN AND YOU SAID THE SAME FOR JB WHEN HE ACTS LIKE A JERK, BUT STILL, HIT ARTISTS LOL . I ASSURE YOU THAT NIALL WILL BE GOOD. THE KIND OF MUSIC HE WRITES IS JUST AMAZING AND HE'S GOING TO BE SOOO GOOD. HIS VOICE IS GORGEOUS. IT'S NOT OVERLY HUSKY AND NOT OVERLY HIGH PITCHED. ITS JUST THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF EVERYTHING. AND HE'S SUCH A BEAUTIFUL PERSON AND HE;S ALSO SO CARING AND LOVING. I JUST HOPE HE DOESN'T HAVE TO GET SOME MODEL GIRLFRIENDS TO BE IN THE HIGHLIGHTS JUST BECAUSE NOW HE'LL BE GOING SOLO AND HE'LL BE PROMOTING HIS STUFF. STAY SINGLE MY WHITE BREAD !!!! or just date someone he likes. i just don't want him to date someone because of promo.
Apart from this:
Thoughts on the chapter?
Thoughts on Zayn leaving somewhere late at night? Where could he possibly be going?
Thoughts on Niall coming to terms with his feelings?
Do you think Zayn will reciprocate them or not?
Thoughts on Shanaya being Zayn's daughter? And the reason Soula gave for Zayn abandoning Shanaya?
Do you think Niall will be able to mend the broken family or will Zayn's stubborn ways prevent him from doing so?
What's going to happen when Niall's feelings ever come out?
Thoughts on Soula?
WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT WHEN ZAYN COMES BACK FROM HIS TRIP AND IF HE SEES NIALL INTERACTING WITH HIS DAUGHTER??
NEXT UPDATE SOON BUT I WOULD LIKE AT LEAST 50+ VOTES AND COMMENTS :D