The hotel door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud, sealing away the laughter and music from the party you and Zayne had just left. He leaned against the door for a moment, fingers fumbling with his tie, his cheeks flushed a warm shade of pink. The slight sway in his stance gave him away—he never had much tolerance for alcohol, and it seemed the drinks tonight had hit him harder than either of you expected.

“Didn’t even notice how strong those were…” he muttered, his voice a little rough, his smile crooked. His hazel eyes softened as they found yours, lingering on you with a lovesick intensity that made your stomach flutter. “You look so pretty out there, too pretty..."

Before you could tease him, Zayne pushed off the door and closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His lips crashed against yours in a deep, hungry kiss that left you breathless. There was nothing careful about it—his touch was desperate, his movements unsteady yet full of raw longing.

Your back met the wall as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of even an inch between you. You felt the warmth of his breath and the faint taste of wine on his lips as he kissed you again and again, harder each time. Although his glasses kept falling down to the tip of his nose.

With a low groan of frustration, he lifted one hand to his face, tugging his glasses off mid-kiss. The sudden clarity in his gaze as he tossed them carelessly onto the dresser sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes were dark now, hazel flecked with gold, locked wholly on you. “Better,” he whispered against your lips, before claiming them again.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, feeling the heat of his body pressed against yours. He kissed you like he’d been starving, like he’d been waiting all night just to have you here. Each brush of his mouth was a mix of tenderness and unrestrained desire, leaving you weak beneath the intensity of it.

Without warning, he bent down, scooping you effortlessly into his arms. You gasped, arms flying around his neck as he smirked against your cheek. “Mine,” he murmured, voice thick with affection and want.

He carried you across the room with surprising steadiness, despite his flushed state, and tossed you onto the soft hotel bed with a playful yet heated growl. You bounced against the sheets with a laugh, but the sound was quickly swallowed as he crawled over you, pinning you beneath his weight.

His hair, usually neat and tidy, now fell messily into his face, shadows flickering across his features. His eyes burned with a mix of intoxication and raw love as he looked down at you. “All night… all I wanted was you.” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper than before, as the night fully took over.

When Zayne tossed you onto the bed, your laughter lingered in the air, but it quickly dissolved when he crawled over you, capturing your lips again with even more hunger than before. The taste of him was intoxicating, his kisses messy and desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands framed your face for a moment, tender despite the urgency, before sliding down to pull you closer.

Every brush of his lips carried heat, every whispered word was thick with need. “I can’t stop… not tonight,” he breathed against your skin, voice low and shaky, as though the alcohol had stripped away his usual restraint and left only raw affection. "You'll be a mother tonight.."

The night blurred around you—the world reduced to the warmth of his body, the weight of his love, and the way he whispered your name between kisses. Clothes became forgotten details.

———

The next day, the hotel room was quiet except for the hush of the city outside and the steady rhythm of Zayne’s breathing beside you. Warm morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the sheets in pale gold. You shifted a little, wincing faintly, and the movement stirred him awake. His lashes fluttered, and when his eyes opened, you were met with that familiar shade of green—clearer now, but heavy with the fog of a hangover.