Note: This is a short Valentine's Day special. It's basically a really short one shot, and I hope you guys enjoy it! Also... this may be a possible look into the future. Possible. :)
Zayn and I were laying side by side on the floor of his painting warehouse. There was a thin sheet beneath us and a small throw blanket covering the both of us. Our breathing finally regulated from something harsh and shallow to deeper and much calmer, but my senses still felt heightened.
I could still feel Zayn's hands touching all over my body with the care, precision, and strength of someone who was an artist. His hands created works of art, and as I allowed him to completely unravel me, I felt like one of those artworks. The way he looked at me with lustful eyes, hooded and glazed over, yet still seeing me so clearly, it made me feel strong and confident. Dare I say, desirable.
I could still feel his lips trailing hot and feverish kisses down the expanse of my throat, teeth nipping at my flesh with an almost animalistic desire-- leaving marks that were both proud and possessive. I could also taste his lips on mine. They tasted like fruit he was eating beforehand, mixed with the fresh taste of the mint gum he chewed right after. It all contrasted with his own scent-- something manly and earthly mixed with the faint smell of paints and charcoals that he worked with.
I could hear his reassuring words, telling me that I was beautiful and strong. He told me that he wanted to look at me, to truly see me, and I was afraid, but I trusted him, and I allowed him to see. As our bodies moved together, becoming one in the way that I thought would always be impossible for someone like me, I felt like all of those complimenting words that rolled off of his tongue. Sexy, confident, brave, lovely, like I was enough.
"You okay?" Zayn questioned, his voice coming out in a near whisper-- so very gentle. Just like the way he caressed my cheek as he kissed me.
I nodded, looking him in the eyes. It was still a bit of a struggle to not hide my face away, but Zayn's constant reassurances made me stronger little by little. I could hold my head up at times, sure, but I felt safest with Zayn.
"Was it... was I... um...." I trailed off, feeling bashful about the whole situation now. I wasn't exactly experienced in that area. What if Zayn regretted it?
"Hey," He cooed, holding my face in his hands and pressing another kiss to my lips. "It was perfect. You're amazing, Liam."
"I... I didn't know what to do, and I just-"
"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit," He smirked, and I felt my face grow hot under his gaze.
"Thank you?" I questioned, and Zayn gave out a small breath through his nose at my response. He held my hand up in his and pressed a kiss to my fingertips.
"How was it for you? It didn't hurt too much, did it?" He asked, looking concerned as he searched my face.
I shook my head. "No. You were really careful," I said, averting my eyes from his in embarrassment. I had absolutely no experience in this area, and I never imagined that I would be in this position with anyone. I thought I was horrendous to everyone. I was a freakish mistake... but Zayn didn't make me feel that way in the slightest.
"You deserve someone who'll take care of you," He said, lifting my face until I was looking him in the eyes. I closed my eyes as he leaned in, and I felt his lips touch mine once again. He kissed me like he never wanted to forget what it felt like, and I selfishly allowed him to.
It wasn't our first kiss-- not even close-- but it still made me feel like a fire was burning beneath my skin.
We broke apart, and I opened my eyes, seeing that Zayn's were still closed, a tiny smile playing on his lips. Finally, he opened his eyes and searched my face.
"You're beautiful," He said, and I knew he was being sincere, but my brain wouldn't allow me to accept the compliment.
"I'm not. I know I'm not," I said, shaking my head slightly, and Zayn raised an eyebrow.
"What do you think beautiful looks like?"
"Like you," I responded without missing a beat. "Everything about you. You're basically everyone's dream guy. You have perfect hair, a perfect face, pretty eyes, good cheekbones, a great jawline, even great lips."
"Okay, but that doesn't make me beautiful," He insisted, and I knew he meant every word he said. Zayn never said something that he didn't mean. All of his words held truth to them. It was why I trusted him so much to begin with.
"Then what does beauty look like to you?"
"Bravery. Persistence. Resilience," He listed off, his eyes meeting my own. "Someone who has hundreds of scars from the past but is able to still push through even the toughest of troubles."
I felt his finger trail over my cheek, touching every scar upon my face as it went, and I realized that I didn't need to feel self-conscious. So, I closed my eyes and allowed Zayn to touch me, to wonder, too feel every scar upon my face.
"You're beautiful," He repeated, seeming to want me to believe what he was saying as well. Although I couldn't believe his words completely, I did believe that he saw me as something closer to attractive rather than akin to a monster.
"Thank you," I said, wanting nothing more than to work with him, to try to make myself believe his words as well.
Then, he kissed me again, soft and slow before pulling back and holding me close to his body, skin to skin without anything between us. We snuggled close together, and I felt my heartbeat speed up. It was a feeling I have never felt for another person before.
More than a crush.
I was falling in love with Zayn. And when I looked into his eyes, I had a feeling that it was completely okay to fall.
I somehow knew that he would catch me.