Icarus | Z.M.

20 | Consume

Victoria Tomlinson

As soon as Zayn's lips touched mine, I knew I was fucked, because my hand shot up to the side of his neck, where I held him, my thumb on the sharp of his jaw and I pulled him in closer, kissing him back with just as much force.

I knew it was wrong, so, so wrong, but I just couldn't find myself caring about whether this was the right decision or not. I didn't care if it was right, I knew it was a bad decision to kiss him back. But it felt so good.

And his hands were all over me. One stayed, laced into my hair, keeping my face tight against his so he could kiss me deeply, a hunger that I had never experienced before. His other hand couldn't decide where it wanted to go, he was all over me. My face, my neck, my waist before he was grabbing handfuls of my ass, tugging my body into him with desperation.

He tipped my head back to meet his height, and something about the way he already had so much control over me didn't fail to make my stomach tighten. I knew he liked to get his own way, to be in charge. And for the first time he had me under his control, I was too used to having to use some else to make me feel good. But already, in the time he teased me, kissing my neck, and now as he kissed me and took control, it was him, he was making me feel good.

My hands slid down to grip his biceps. He had no shirt on so I could feel the way his skin heated beneath my touch, I could feel the hard muscle trapped beneath a blanket of soft inked skin. His muscles flexed and contorted in his arm with every move of my hand. I was just trying to hold him anywhere I could.

My bottom lip was taken between his teeth, and he tugged on it, pulling back a bit before he dropped it and leaned in to kiss me again. I exhaled shakily at the feeling, enjoying the feeling much more than I ever thought I would.

He pulled his face back, no more than an inch. Our noses were still practically touching, and I could feel every rapid breath he let out hit my face, and I knew he could feel mine too. My chest was rising and falling rapidly, trying to take back the oxygen he had stolen from me.

Hesitantly, my eyes opened. I didn't want to look at him because I had no idea what was happening. I was sure I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye. My head was struggling to catch up with whatever it was I was actually doing.

His eyes were already open, but they weren't on mine. He was staring at my lips. His lips were parted, flushed a darker pink colour than usual from how aggressive that had just been.

I was just breathing heavily, waiting for him to say something, anything. He knew he was in complete control of this, and I didn't know what was going through his head.

I hardly realised his gaze was no longer on my lips, but was now on my eyes and we were staring at each other, faces flushed.

"We can't," I whispered, being the one to break the silence between us.

The air between our faces was so thick it was almost as if it wasn't there anymore, I could hardly take in a breath. Everything was so warm, and the longer we spent like this, our lips just hovering an inch from each other, I became so much more aware of every way his body was touching mine.

I was still just struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

"I know," was all he said in response, darting his eyes down to my lips again.

Out of desperation, the way he had already got me so wound up, my body was overwhelmed by too many feelings. My hands travelled down from where I was grasping his biceps, I soothed my palms down his sides, his warm skin, careful to avoid the cut on his rib before I was holding his hips, right above the waist band of the grey sweatpants he had on.