Chapter 58 Nothing But Need

Chapter 58 Nothing But Need
The sharp beep of the keypad, followed by the soft click of the door handle yanking open, is what finally jolts me awake.
I'd passed out on the couch sometime after midnight, waiting for Zayn to return from Jesse's party.
He stumbles through the doorway at 2:47 a.m.
Vinny has one of his arms slung over his shoulder, half-carrying him, while Jay trails behind them, shutting the door quietly.
I'm already on my feet, rushing over.

"It's almost three in the morning," I hiss, keeping my voice low. "What the hell were you guys partying about that took this long?"
I give Jay and Vinny the death glare before my eyes drop to Zayn.
He's so wasted, swaying even with Vinny holding him up. And his eyes remain unfocused.
He also smells like someone emptied the entire bar on him.
"Zayn, what the hell?"

Vinny exhales through his nose, manoeuvring Zayn so he can lean against the doorframe instead. "Found him puking in Jesse's bushes," he announces. "Tried to get him to crash there for the night, but he kept mumbling your name… wouldn't shut up about it. So we dragged his drunk ass back here."
Jay nods, already turning toward the door. "Deal with him, Ash. We're out."
Vinny pats my shoulder gently, then starts walking away.
"Wait…" I step forward. "You guys can just sleep here. It's quite late. The couch pulls out. There are blankets, spare pillows…"

Jay smiles at me. "We'll be fine, Ash. Vinny will drive. He's the only one not wasted." He nods toward Zayn, who's sliding slowly down the doorframe like his bones are melting. "The only thing you need to worry about is that."
"Fuck you," Zayn slurs, his head lolling against the wood.
Jay chuckles under his breath. "Love you too, bro."
They slip out.

Zayn finishes his slow-motion collapse until he's sitting on the floor, his back against the door.
His eyes are closed now, but he's still conscious. Barely.
I crouch in front of him, studying the mess he's become.
"You weren't at the party," he mumbles, eyes still shut.
"You told me not to go."
"Since when do you listen?"
The question hangs there.

Since you stopped talking to me.
Since I learned what losing you actually feels like.
Since I realised I'd rather sit home alone than risk making things worse.
I swallow the answer.
Instead, I reach out, brushing damp hair off his forehead. "Can you stand?"
Red-rimmed, unfocused eyes crack open.
They find mine immediately.
Even through the haze, I'm the only thing he can still see clearly.
For a moment, we stare at each other.

Up close like this, nose to nose with our breaths mingling, is the nearest we've been in weeks.
The air between us has now grown infused with tension that one wrong move could shatter whatever thin thread still holds us together.
Zayn slowly lifts a hand.
His palm cups my cheek, clumsily but so gently it steals my breath away.
I close my eyes and lean into it, nuzzling against the rough warmth of his skin like a cat seeking comfort.

He inches closer, and before I know it, his mouth finds mine.
I move into his lap without thinking, straddling him and kissing him back just as fiercely.
He groans into my mouth, his hands going under my nightshirt.
Desperate fingers find my nipples, rolling them gently first, then pinching hard enough to make my back arch.
I throw my head back, moaning out in pleasure.
The column of my neck is exposed, and Zayn's mouth covers it, his lips trailing warm kisses down my throat, before going lower.

His tongue replaces his fingers, swirling tortuously around the tight peak of my nipple before sucking it into his mouth.
"Zayn…" His name leaves my mouth on a broken gasp.
He might be drunk, but gosh, he still knows what he's doing.
He switches to the other breast, giving it the same slow, filthy worship until I'm shaking so hard I almost come.
And I haven't even been touched yet.

I thread my fingers into his hair and tip his head back, crashing my mouth to his again.
We might be at loggerheads, but we still want each other.
We still need each other.
I've pulled his zipper down and freed his cock when he suddenly breaks the kiss.
Before I can ask why or even catch my breath, his hands are on my hips, turning me until I'm facing away from him, on all fours.

Zayn is too drunk for words. All I hear is a low, deep grunt as he roughly pulls my panties down, exposing my ass and soaked cunt.
He thrusts two fingers into my cunt, and my greedy hole clamps down hard around him, pulsing with need.
I rock back and forth on his fingers, too impatient and empty for the real thing to wait.
Zayn grunts and pulls his fingers free.
Before I can complain, he slaps my ass hard; I'm sure his handprint will leave an impression.
I mewl in pleasure and pain.

Then I feel him spit directly on my asshole, and my whole body tightens in anticipation.
He wants my ass tonight.
Not my pussy.
I'm already shaking for it.
We only do anal on rare occasions, when the need is too big for anything else, when we both want to feel claimed and stretched and utterly owned.
Right now, the hunger in his grunts tells me this is one of those nights.

He spits again— this one messier— and rubs it in with the pad of his thumb slowly.
Dragging his fingers lower, he scoops my own slick from my dripping cunt and smears it upward, painting my hole with it, pushing the tip of one finger inside to open me further.
I'm trembling.
Dying from the wait.
When I finally feel the head of his cock nudge my hole, I let out a mewl and drop to my elbows, my forehead almost touching the floor. But my ass is arched up higher than before.

I spread my knees wider, giving him the perfect view and angle.
Zayn pushes in without taking it slow, and I choke on a gasp.
The stretch is immediate, forcing every nerve inside me to come alive at once.
My nails scrape the floor uselessly as he sinks another inch.
He grunts aloud again and keeps going, till the burn starts to grow into something more pleasurable.
I cry out in part pain, part pleasure, my ass clenching around him.
It's trying to push him out and pull him deeper at the same time.

Zayn doesn't give me time to adjust. He rams into me fully till all glorious 8.5 inches of him is buried in my hole, and starts fucking me hard.
He's not gentle or slow.
He's drunk and desperate and taking what he wants.
I collapse flat on my stomach now, my cheek pressed to the cool floor.
My arms are stretched out in front of me, my ass still tilted high while he rails me mercilessly from behind.

Every thrust is followed by a low, ragged grunt from his throat.
The sound alone makes my cunt clench harder. I can't explain why it turns me on so much, the way he's reduced to nothing but pure, carnal instinct.
No words or finesse here, just the primal need driving him forward.