”I’m glad you’re here,” Zayn whispers, breaking the silence a third time.
Harry doesn’t know why he can feel his cheeks heat up in an instant after those words. He just had his tongue up Zayn’s arse, moaning unabashedly at the taste, and it’s these four words that instinctually make him want to push his head under the pillow, never to be seen again.
(Because it’s been one year since I wrote this nastiness. Happy Valentine’s Day?)