1D Sexual Frustrations

Zayn : Simple Lazy Day

The room was cold, and the duvet was slipping off my already naked body. That’s what woke me up. That and the sound of my boyfriend’s breathing, his heavy arm draped over me, his head in the crook of my neck, holding me pressed to his body like he didn’t want me to escape him, and trust me I didn’t want too. I traced the pattern of his tattoo, hoping to have an easy awakening to our planned lazy day. At first nothing, but slowly, as I pressed my finger into the center of the yellow “P” printed on his forearm, he began shuffling, rolling, his snoring stopping abruptly, and his arm lightening up on the hold it has over my torso, allowing me room to roll over and face him. His eyes are partially closed as I reach my hand to cup his stubble covered chin and pull it in to kiss his lips lightly.

“Morning” I whisper, now running my fingers through his hair, he needs a haircut.

“Mmm” He grumbles, blinking his eyes fully open “Morning…”

I let off a small giggle, wrapping my arm around his neck and moving to be on top of him, pressing my lips into his for longer now. He allows it to happen, to hazy to protest about morning breath or his morning hunger.

“It’s guna be a good day…” He mumbles against my lips.

“Of course” I agree.

_

Breakfast is all fun and games. Kissing and hip grabbing, flower throwing and batter dripping everywhere, resulting in the misshapen pancakes and burnt bacon combination. We sit in a comfortable silence as we eat; I admire the way Zayn eyebrows rise and fall as he reads the paper, the way his imagination plays behind his eyes.

He picks up his guitar as I do the dishes and begins to strum, his fingers plucking the strings not nearly as good as he wants but he settles and begins singing some crazy song.

“Oh, Y/N, you drive me crazy….

I don’t know what else to say but, you smell like a daisy…”

He plucks the strings a few more times and I giggle, drying a cup.

“I can’t make up good rhymes…

But tonight I’ll show you a good time”

This time I laugh out loud, looking over at his shirtless figure, he sits looking down at the neck of the guitar to see what string he’s reaching for, which note he’s trying to play.

“I am a man, who loves a sweet young girl…

I’m lucky that she’s not… named Earl.”

I shake my head at the nonsense coming out of his mouth

“I can’t write songs for the life of me,

But darling, (y/N), can’t you see!” He holds out the note, his voice going out of his pitch range and cracking, he lets out a laugh before continuing.

“I love you, and you love me

And thank you for that, because you make me tea!”

He looks at me and smiles,

“Maybe one day I’ll write a good song with feelings

But right now, you look very appealing!”

“Zayn!” I laugh, picking up the last dish

“and you think I’m weird,

But you love my beard

It tickles your face when you kiss me,

And somedays you tell me you miss me”

He hums to himself

“and I miss you too, when I’m away