Inhale (A Zayn Malik Fanfiction AU)

23//Baby Girl

lots of shits been going on with Zayn and he's left the tour. I'm so sad. But I wrote this chapter and I want to cheer you guys up.

smut warning

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Chapter 23

(Eve's POV)

Earned It - The Weeknd

"I'm yours, baby girl," he says to me. "I'm all yours."

His words are enough to send me off edge. I continue to kiss him, because I've finally made him mine. I made him mine and I'm going to keep it this way. My plan was to back out when I got him to feel this way about me, but I can't. No matter how much of a bitch I can be, I can't hurt him. Not after he did all of this for me. I've made him mine in a way that none of us expected, but I refuse to back out now. Because as much as I hate to admit it, he's made me his.

I'm not his girl, or his baby, but I'm his. He's won me over in a way that no man has ever been able to do. He's made himself vulnerable in front of me, just as I have to him. I told him my secret because he deserved to know. After coming all the way to here to comfort me, after saying all of those lovely words, I knew that there is truly two sides to Zayn Malik.

But luckily, I know how to control both of them.

And right now, as I kiss him deeply, I refuse to stop. I know exactly where my actions are leading us. I know exactly where we are going. I know that in a couple of minutes, Zayn and I will be exposed to each other in a way that we haven't been before. Yet, I'm not going to stop. I want this with Zayn. I want to have sex with him, I want to have him touch me, I want him to worship me tonight; and I want to do the same to him.

Because at this point, sex isn't a big deal for either of us. It's not as intimate as having our clothes on and laying besides each other, talking about things we've never spoken about. It's not as special as cleaning his bruises or having him tell me that he likes me. Sex is just the act of our bodies interacting, not our hearts. Not our minds.

"Evelyn," he whispers as if he's drunk off the way I'm kissing him.

I graze my lips across his collar bone, moving it down his chest. His chest rise and falls as I press my self against him, wrapping my legs around his waist. He places his hands on my back, digging his gentle fingers in the small of my back to hold me closer. I run my hands through his hair, kissing his shoulder, his neck, his collar bone; every part of him that throbbed under my touch.

"Zayn, you're so wonderful," I say before I know what I'm saying.

He laughs under his breath. That's when I decide that I really like the way he laughs.

"Thank you, Evelyn."

He grabs my waist and moves us so that he's laying down on the bed and I'm on top of him. It's an alien feeling, because I've never seen Zayn like this before. His bottom lip is caught in between his two teeth as he bites on it hard. His eyes are shut tightly, and his hair is not messy enough against the pillow. His forehead is creased as I move my lips down his chest. He looks so vulnerable laying beneath me this way; it's a sight I can get used to seeing.

I bring my thumb to his bottom lip and tug on it. He opens his eyes, looking at my face hovering above his, and he lets his lip free.

"Don't bite your lip when I'm around," I say to him, "I would like to do that for you."

He smirks at the familiar words, watching me as I sit on top of his waist. He shuts his eyes as my fingers trace over his tattoos gently, taking them in.