He beamed up at me while he was lost in that submissive-like state, on his knees for me, wanting to be commanded—just like he’d wanted to be taken and fucked.
But the moment he licked up the last drop, all that slipped away again.
His eyes narrowed as he rose to his feet. He cursed to himself under his breath.
I reached out to him, but he batted my hand away, then hurriedly fixed himself back into his pants and wiped away any sign of what we’d just done together, clearing the walls with a sweep of his magic as well.
He snapped his fingers and did the same to me. I even noticed that my previously wet shirt was now dry.
“Zayn—”
“No. Don’t,” he ground out. “That was just… rage relief.”
“You really can’t process that you enjoy a little submission? Not wanting to lead, but to receive instead doesn’t make you—”
“Stop. Just fucking stop. We’re not having a heartfelt moment here. It was just some rough and raw fucking.” He gestured around. “In a bathroom stall. Nothing romantic about it.”
“I really don’t think the venue has any bearing on—”
“It’s done. Fucking was had. Satisfaction was achieved. The end.”
“It’s not—”
Something soft hit me on the top of my head.
Before it dropped to the ground, I caught it to find my charcoal hoodie in my hand.
A jolt went through me—my hoodie that I’d left out by the sinks.
Oh, no.
A throat cleared roughly.
“This is my fourth time doing that,” a familiar voice spoke.
“Dad,” I choked.
“Now, Zayn, if you’re finished using my son like a fleshlight, I’d teleport out.” He was using that rumbling, dangerous tone. “Right now.”
Zayn’s alarmed gaze careened into mine.
But before I could get a word out, he swept himself up in his fuchsia power and teleported out.
I took a moment, even though I was already dressed and cleaned again thanks to Zayn, and I drew in a couple of calming breaths before I stepped out of the stall.
Dad stood there facing away from the sinks, his arms folded across his chest and looking a mixture of upset for me and indignant.
“To be clear, that’s not why I came in here. He just showed up and—”
“This is a toxic dynamic you’re embroiled in.”
“Toxic? I… no, I wouldn’t refer to it as…”
“He’s using you to feel something he’s ashamed of feeling. You’re meeting him halfway, holding back in several ways too, but he’s not doing the same for you.”
“Pops was like that with you at first. He told me.”
“No. It’s not the same. Lazriel was afraid of his bisexuality initially. But he was also open, just unsure and needing a patient, guiding hand. That’s not what’s happening here. Zayn fucks everyone, day in and day out. He performs the role of dominance which isn’t natural to him, nor what he needs. He’s so very deep in denial that every now and then the pressure breaks and that’s when he comes back to use you. It’s been two years since things turned from platonic to sexual between you, and no progress has been made.Why?Because he isn’t willing to give anything, only to take. And it’s hurting you.”
