THE NIGHT OF FIRE

I feel a sob hurting my throat, and I try to gulp it down with closely shut eyes. I hold him tighter and it feels I’ve revived a piece of himself back. A piece of myself back.

No one, has called me Ado, since the last whole year. Because I had lost the only two people who could ever call me that.

My lip quivers and my whimpers ultimately break out.

I feel Zach’s tears on my skin and a few of my own escape as I rock him slowly. We stay like that for minutes, in the silence until his shaking normalizes.

I pull away- little and slow, looking at him who looks back at me with his brown teary eyes.

I can’t imagine what all him and Brit have gone through. And how well they had concealed it all.

This is why Brit hated her parents. This was why he reacted the way he did when his ball got punctured.

This was why Zach is… Zach.

I know probably Zach will never tell me want went down with his parents, but I know this now. And now that I know this, know HIM, I love him with it.

I wipe his face with my hands softly, his warm moist skin against mine and give him a small assuring smile.

“Come on, we need to get your wounds cleaned.”

*

“Are they hurting?”

I ask him, as I tie the bandage around the last cut. He has hurt himself pretty bad.

We are sitting in Zach’s room which totally looks like Zach’s room.

Overhead lights flow in the oversized room. His black guitar is still placed safely. I had been here just once, at brunch when Brit had been crying.

But I hadn’t spotted the punching bag then, which looks overused now. Of course, he has a punching bag.

The walls are light, expensive and sophisticated and so is the wooden closet, with the full length mirror on the side, white curtains flowing gently along, in the wind through the ajar window

“Used to it.”

His voice is still slurring a tiny bit and I look up to see him already watching me. And we hold the gaze. For minutes, without saying anything.

“You must be thinking I’m so fucked up, right?”

He speaks slowly, with a regretful expression on his face, almost as if he’s sorry for being what he is. And it’s heartbreaking to see him feel so.

“Who isn’t?”

I secure the dressing, just tight enough for it to not hurt him more. There’s already some bruises on his knuckles, from punching Axel last night, I’m assuming.

It’s really difficult to accept how frequently Zach gets into fights. And hurts himself.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

He stares into me and I feel my heartbeat rising.

It feels so weird when I hear something so simple, yet so remarkably pleasing. Even more so, when it’s him.

“Well, you needed someone. And Brit is, unwell too, so…”

“Just somehow you’re always saving my ass. With Brit, and Evans, and blood sugar, and now.” He smiles sadly.

“Oh, you’d be so lost without me Hayden.” I chuckle lightly with a playful tone and an amused smile.

“Maybe.”

He looks at me sincerely and it’s so intense that I look away, searching for imaginary dust particles on his white Henley.

“I didn’t know I was a nobody, by the way.” I tell him teasingly and he scrunches up his eyebrows in confusion.

“You shouted earlier, right. ‘Cut the act, nobody’s watching’. Well I… was watching.” I try to mimic his thick accented voice.

Pathetic.

I am so bad at making people feel better. And my sense of humour sucks. I want to drown myself in the vervain.

But right now I’d say anything to distract him. Or rather myself, from the way he’s looking up at me.

It’s making me forget that I am supposedly angry at him, with the whole Axel episode and then the shouting in the parking lot and so much more.

But I know it won’t be long until I’m no longer mad. Because Zach has a habit of getting his way.

“You’re a lot of things Adalanna. A ‘nobody’ isn’t one of those.” His voice comes out, slow and hoarse and I swallow nervously.

Zach Hayden is one hell of a confusing human. One moment he’s hating me, and the very next he’s simply- not.

I have been just so tired of this… thing between us. Which hangs in the middle. I just don’t know what we are.

I know that I will yell at him, like no one else and slap him in a populated compound.

But I also know that one thought of him needing me, and I’ll come running leaving everything.

And I don’t know what to think about that. I am becoming dependent on him, just like I feared I would. This is just the way it starts; ad ends with me hurt, and him walking away just fine.

““Then what am I exactly, Zach?”

He stands up, moving me up with himself, both of us facing each other. And I anxiously wait for his answer, partly bracing myself, for something that I might not want to hear.

“I would tell you, if only it had been one thing.” He leans in closer to me while his voice cracks seductively, making the hair on my neck stand.

“I’m more than one thing?” I breathe out and he places his palm on the side of my face.

I go crimson red and burning hot as he comes even painfully closer, our lips barely inches apart.

“You’re everything, Adalanna.” He breathes out against my lips. I close my eyes against a thumping heart, and my lungs fill with liquid temptation.

He takes it as cue to slide his lips over mine bringing his other hand to my face, cupping it closer.

I had regretted it last time, but that doesn’t stop me from responding again. Only want it more. Because now that I have tasted the fire, I can’t bring myself to deny it. Even if it burns me down to the ground.

He’s a hamartia. He’s my hamartia.

Pleasure blasts through my head as our lips move in sync.

Unlike last time, this kiss is slow, gentle, patient. I relish every moment and try to memorize this feeling, in fear of it not happening again.

Moments pass by and I feel myself needing oxygen but Zach doesn’t let me. He IS the oxygen right now. His slow pace by now, has become torturous. I want more. I need more.

I move my fingers in his lush hair bringing him closer to me, in hopes of deepening the kiss, and I feel him smiling against my lips.

“Zach-“ I moan his name as he caresses my neck with his finger.

“Something you want, sweetheart?” He breathes against my lips and I groan in frustration.

I begin to feel a tension in my stomach, my legs turning weak with need.

“Please, Zach-“

He doesn’t wait a moment longer as he takes my head in both his hands, pouring everything into the kiss, our tongues fighting for dominance.

And it’s much more than I could ever ask for. His fingers gently caress my cheek, and I end up moaning loudly into the kiss that he dissolves.

Passion builds itself between us like the eye of a tornado, and I know there’ll be no one like Zach, ever.

The way his hand runs all along my hair and neck.

The way he moves his soft lips over mine, like he’s skilfully trained to please.

The way his cologne mixes with his scent to produce that intoxicating fragrance.

I inhale heavily, taking him all in, when I smell a whiff of alcohol, and all colour drains from my face.

Shit. He’s drunk.

I retract and back off, breathing heavily and turning to leave, before I overthink and ruin things.

But he moves too quick and holds my hand, just in time to pull me back, crashing me full force into his toned chest.

“Stay with me.”

He holds my waist with both of his hands, whispering, and lands a slow lopsided kiss on the spot below my ear.

Oh my. I have never felt this way before. This level of pleasure. How does he do this.

He brings one hand to my hair, unclipping my bun, and my hair falls all around me in a rushed tumble.

I close my eyes and he moves down to nuzzle my neck, placing wet feather kisses, burying his face in my now open hair, inhaling heavily.

“Please.” His voice is lazy and thick, and it simply turns me on more; to know he desperately wants me to stay here. That he needs this as much as I do.

I fist his t-shirt as a soft moan escapes my lips. I arch my head sideways. Adrenaline courses all throughout my body. I stand on the thread of melting away.

“Don’t leave.” He pulls me further in, his fingers tightening around me, his scent messing with my brain.

“I have to, Zach.” I run my fingers through his hair, trying to convince myself to leave.

I am struggling to find that ground between knowing it’s wrong and being able to stop it. But it’s too difficult.

I just need a bit more, just- a bit- more.

“This isn’t real.” I whisper out and he comes out to take my mouth in a passionate kiss, actively stopping any form of resistance.

“Hush.”

“You’re drunk.” I whisper against his lips in between his kisses.

“I don’t care.” He brings one hand up to my neck holding me in place.

“Zach.” His hand goes down to my hip and my cell phone goes off, while he nuzzles my neck again.

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t.” My cell stops ringing, only to go off again.

I open my eyes to peek at the caller ID and I freeze.

I drop my hands from his hair and tense up.

“Zach. I have to go.”

Something in my voice must have given me away, because he stops and looks at me passionately, searching my face.

“Why?” He inches closer, lightly resting his lips on my cheek, panting, while I gasp for a precious breath.

My mind, too hazy and boggled, struggles to form an answer, as he looks at me, his face flushed in the dim overhead lights.

Every second that I take, to construct an answer, Zach turns more irresistible.

I can hear my veins pumping in my head, I can see his brown orbs turned into an inviting darker tint- I can see his enticing lips, parted in breath, offering them up to me- to claim, to own, and to cherish.

Zach wants an answer, and I have a feeling that if I can't come up with one soon- he won't want it anymore.

I feel a heat crawl up my skin, every inch of it-

My legs turn heavier, and then with tormenting slowness, Zach walks.

He walks, making me step backwards in a daze, while still in his embrace, hands resting securely on his arms.

My back hits a flowy fabric, and I pause when Zach removes his hand from my waist, bringing it up behind me and hitting the curtain away with a relaxed drift.

I can't understand how such a small gesture can be so erotically intense.

His stance is like nothing that I have ever witnessed. A blend- a fatal blend, of power, threat and seduction.

He looks at me with a carnality, the likes of which I have never been looked at before.

I hit a cold surface with a clink, and I can feel it to be the mirror.

I clutch his arm tighter to balance myself. He takes a handful of the hoodie I'm wearing, at my waist with both of his hands, one on either side.

I lick my parched lips nervously;

while he twists and wraps the cloth around his fist, and pulls the tightened fabric towards himself with a yank, tugging me with it.

I land on his chest with a sharp intake of breath, the hoodie stretched tight against my skin, and his hands firm along the lines of my body.

"You were saying-" He rests his face along the side of my own, the bridge of his nose behind my earlobe, drowned in the wild strands of my hair.

"I-"

I try to breathe out any coherent words, but they won't- leave my throat.

There's just so much of Zach enveloping me, I can't speak, I can't think- I can't-

Desire pools unchecked, and unrestrained in my belly, an electrifying churn in my stomach raging, tightening every passing moment that Zach's skin lingers on mine.

He does nothing, makes no movement, just- steady and unflinching, and relishing, and the touch intensifying with the burning elongation of time.

My heart pounds like crazy, and I feel every thud, against my chest, my neck, my head, every single nerve-

"Tell me you don't want this, and I won't lay one finger on you, Adalanna."

I hear his sultry, husky words in my ear, and in the back of my head, I hear the immediate reflexive reply, that I want this. Every single inch of my body screams that I want this.

Now that he has dragged me onto the summit of desire, from where my inner goddess would die, if she jumps off- I can't NOT want this.

I just can't NOT, God this is excruciating.

I do want this. I want him. One word, and it's surrender, Alanna. Just one word, and- give in.

"Zach- "

Author's note:

** raises head slowly, breathes on the glass window, watches it get steamed, writes DAMN with index finger, slowly creeps below and hides **

Finally, things are (literally) heating up.

Pick out your sides, what’s it gonna be, Wild chocolate, or Classic vanilla?

We have barely begun.

Like, vote, comment.