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Zarry- You Belong To Me

Harry belonged to Zayn. Harry belonged to Zayn and Zayn alone. Harry most certainly did not belong to the millions of fans who were intent on getting in his pants. Zayn was determined to prove that to Harry, and in his filthy teenage mind there was only one way to do that….

Zayn waited for Harry to get home from his night out with that camp guy off the radio to put his plan into action, sitting on the sofa with all of the lights off, just for dramatic effect, so that when Harry did get in, he’d be frightened half to death and already in a vulnerable, submissive position with his heart beating ten to the dozen, before Zayn even had to stand up.

The plan worked; Harry was slightly tipsy, in his own little world and humming to himself as he tiptoed across the living, almost jumping out of his skin when he caught sight of the older boy’s silhouette and Zayn chosen that precise moment to put his plan into action, standing up and launching himself at the curly haired boy, grabbing him by his curls and dragging him to the bedroom; Harry loved having his curls pulled, but he also liked to be in charge, so this was bitter sweet for him. Harry keened a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through his body as he tried desperately to break free of Zayn’s grip and regain dominance.

Zayn just laughed, tightening his hold and pulling the younger boy’s head up to allow himself to whisper menacingly into his ear “The more you squirm, the worse it’s gonna be, got that?” Harry gulped, letting out a strange whimper as he did so, not knowing if that would be a good or a bad thing “Please don’t hurt me Zayn.” He mumbled innocently and Zayn just shot him a glare, tightening his hand even more and whispering again “Did I say you can speak? You’re my little bitch now and you do as I say. You don’t mutter a word unless it’s to tell me who you belong to…or else.” Zayn was getting a little carried away, but Harry didn’t argue- secretly he was enjoying this Zayn, it was different to the quiet, passive boy that he knew so well.

Once Zayn had thrown Harry down on the bed, he ordered him to remove his clothes, while he watched on, face void of emotion but his heart pounding in his chest as Harry revealed more and more of his pale body to the completely clothed Zayn. Harry was left more vulnerable than ever, shivering on the bed, his cock standing to attention and leaking precum onto his stomach, all of his hairs were standing on end from the cold and the humiliation of being so naked.

Zayn wanted to draw out the humiliation, but his own cock was throbbing painfully in his boxers, rubbing against the material and begging to be released and he couldn’t take it any longer. He took of his T-shirt first and Harry groaned, earning an angry stare from Zayn, shutting him up immediately.

Harry bit on his bottom lip to stop himself from making a sound as he watched Zayn removed the rest of his clothes, his dick springing free and swaying from side to side as he walked over to the draw and retrieved the lube. Harry wasn’t opposed to letting Zayn fuck him, but it was a rare occurrence; Zayn never normally wanted to hurt Harry and the fact that he was far too tight for even two fingers to fit in without him crying, Zayn tended to just settle for the safer option of taking Harry in him every night. But tonight, the pain that Harry would feel and the pleasure that he would experience offered the perfect mix for what Zayn wanted.

Settling between Harry’s legs, Zayn used one lubed up finger to tease Harry’s entrance, watching closely as the ring of muscle tensed at the rare sensation, puckering further as Zayn tried to ease his middle finger in slightly. Harry writhed on the bed and Zayn’s free hand shot up to hold him in place “Just relax Harry.” Those were the first kind words that Zayn had spoken all night and although Zayn didn’t want to have to day them, there was no avoiding it really, if he wanted to get off tonight.

Harry did as he was told and Zayn was able to slip a finger in. Harry wanted to moan as tears forming in his eyes, but he had been told he wasn’t allowed to, so he kept his mouth shut apart from the odd “I’m yours” which slipped out when it got too much for him. Zayn carried on with one finger until he got bored; Harry didn’t seem to be easing up and he couldn’t be bothered spending the next hour adding a second and third finger…and this was of course a punishment- one which Harry would not be allowed to forget for a long time.

Zayn lined himself up and Harry wanted to close his legs and tell Zayn he couldn’t, but at the same time he craved it more than anything else in the world. Zayn looked into his teary eyes, wiping away the tears as thought he actually cared how the younger boy beneath him felt “Who do you belong to Harry?” Zayn asked as he thrust in, just when Harry wasn’t expecting it. Harry gripped the sheets like his life depended on it and screamed out “YOU…FUCK…..I BELONG TO YOU ZAYN.” He threw his head back in pain and tensed his entire body.

“I told you to relax baby.” Zayn said as he started to move in and out slowly, completely ignoring what Harry’s body was doing in protest. He would have stopped if Harry told him to, but Harry stayed silent, clearly enjoying it somewhere deep down, even if he wasn’t showing it.

As Zayn sped up, Harry’s breathes got heavier and longer and he repeated the only words he was allowed “I’m yours Zayn….shit, I belong to you Zayn.” Zayn could feel his orgasm getting closer every time Harry struggled to get those words out and suddenly Harry was cumming all over himself, muttering apologies between shots and Zayn would have been angry but it was such a hot sight, that he couldn’t find himself to be mad, cumming inside Harry as he felt the younger boy’s walls tightening around him.

Harry looked up at Zayn as he pulled out, his innocent expression still on his face, despite being covered in his own seed with cum dripping out of his spread hole and down his thigh “You belong to me Zayn.”

Zayn’s mouth dropped open, knowing he would have to do this all over again to really hammer it into the boy just who wore the trousers in their relationship.