CHAPTER 207: CHAPTER 207: THE SOUND OF FORGIVENESS

~Evric’s POV~

I stopped his hands gently. "Babe, are you sure? I can wait until you are ready. We could go to the hospital after we leave here."

Zayn’s eyes held a fierce light, desire mixed with determination. "Let me be your doctor," he challenged softly.

I exhaled slowly, relief washing through me. "Thank you, baby." I grew serious again. "I need to tell you, though, because of the drug, I might be... rougher than usual. My control isn’t completely back yet."

Zayn’s eyes held no fear, only deep, abiding trust, a trust I felt I had done nothing to earn. "It’s okay," he whispered, the sound a quiet, profound acceptance. "I will take it."

"Okay," I agreed, my heart swelling with a desperate mix of relief and renewed guilt. "But tell me. Tell me the instant you can’t take it anymore."

A minute later, we were both naked. The shift from clothes to skin was deliberate and careful. I gently carried him from my lap to the center of the bed, placing him well so that his back was against the cool sheets. His body was warm beneath my hands, and I felt the powerful, erratic drumming of my own heart against his skin.

I shifted our position. I turned him gently onto his side and then eased myself behind him, spooning our bodies together. Zayn tensed momentarily, the instinctual fear returning, anticipating the pressure of my body. But instead of entering him, I stopped, letting only my breath warm the curve of his ear.

"Baby, listen to me," I whispered, my voice thick with both desire and control. "I need you to understand something. Seeing you satisfied, knowing I’ve pleased you, gets me off easily. It helps me focus this... this roughness that’s still in my blood. So we’re going to do this together. You’re going to listen to my voice."

I didn’t wait for a reply. I began a pilgrimage of soft, devotional kisses down his back, tracing the column of his spine. I moved to the vulnerable skin of his neck, sucking gently, deliberately, until the breath caught in his throat and a low, ragged moan, my name—"Evric," tore from his lips.

When I felt the tension coil tight and knew he was completely lost in sensation, waiting only for my next move, I leaned close to his ear, my voice deep and commanding.

"I want your hand, baby," I instructed, my own fingers tracing the line of his hip. "Take your hand and find your cock."

Zayn’s moan was soft and ragged. "Ah... you’re making me lose control..."

I smiled against his ear. Good.

I felt his compliance as his muscles relaxed under my touch. His hand, guided by pure reflex and my command, found the perfect, slick spot.

"Stroke it yourself, slow," I commanded, my voice a deep vibration against his skin. "Just feel the heat."

"Yes. That’s it," I affirmed, my breath coming shallow. "Now tell me what you feel. Say it. Moan it for me, Zayn. I want to hear every sound. I need to know you’re in pleasure, not pain."

He shifted restlessly against me. "Babe... slow down... I can’t take it..."

"Just go inside me," he pleaded, the words tight with urgency.

"No, baby," I replied, my voice hard with intoxicating control. "I want to see you shake and beg for me to come inside you."

I leaned in, my mouth brushing his ear. "Zayn, stroke faster."

His hand obeyed instantly. His breath hitched as he began to stroke faster, tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence as the erotic focus of the moment overwhelmed his past fear. "Haa... ah... ahh... Evric, please!"

"Please what?" I challenged, my own body tightening.

He groaned, pressing his hips back against me. "Fuck me!"

"No, baby," I denied, savoring the power in his demand.

"How does it feel?" I asked, needing to ground him back into the sensation he was creating.

"It feels... good," he gasped, the words thin and fragmented.

"Better than good, baby," I countered, my free hand moving on my cock to mimic the rhythm of my own arousal, which was now throbbing, demanding release. "I want to hear that deep sound. The sound that tells me you’ve forgotten everything but this moment. The sound that tells me I own this pleasure."

"Ah... Evric," he cried out, the moan breaking from his throat—a sound of raw, uninhibited desire. His back arched against my chest, his hips pushing back instinctively against mine.

"That’s my man," I praised, the control nearly snapping. My own stroking became frantic, mirroring the pace he set for himself. "Faster, baby. Don’t think. Just feel me watching you. Feel me cumming with you. Give it to me, Zayn. Give me that sound."

"Ahh... please... I can’t— Evric!" he cried, his voice breaking on my name.

"You can, baby," I insisted, the drug roaring in my ears. I felt his complete desperation now, a wild, beautiful abandon. I shifted my hips, pulling back momentarily.

Without ceremony, I moved him. I turned him over, pressing him down onto his hands and knees in the center of the bed, a position of complete surrender and primal power. I slid myself against his ready heat, positioning myself carefully.

He moaned, his forehead pressing against the sheets. "Easy, baby. Go in gently."

"Okay, baby, I will be gentle," I promised, my voice rough. "Just please take me slowly. Let me just release once, and I will do nothing but touch for the rest."

Zayn nodded, giving me his final, shaky consent. "Okay."

I slid inside him. The sensation was immediate, overwhelming, and utterly devastating. I stifled a roar, forcing myself to move at a snail’s pace, fighting the primal impulse to take what I desperately craved.

But the drug was a pirate, and I was losing the war.

With a final, broken exhale of control, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling his hips back hard against mine. I owned his body now, and my promise of slow gentleness dissolved into the frantic, urgent rhythm of my blood.

I began to thrust, deep and hard, claiming the depth of him with the brutal need of a warrior finally taking his prize. A primal, guttural cry escaped my lungs, swallowed by the headboard.

"HAAAA!"

Zayn screamed, a sound that was instantly submerged by his pleasure and the frantic rhythm. His hands gripped the sheets, his hips rocking back to meet every savage thrust.

"Evric! Oh, God!" he shrieked, his voice pure, unadulterated sensation. "Faster! Deeper! I need it, please Evric!"

The raw sound was all the permission I needed. I abandoned all remnants of control, plunging into him like a battering ram, the rhythmic sound of skin slapping skin echoing brutally in the quiet room. I held his hands back, locking them in one of my own as I drove into him, pouring all the fear, all the frustration, all the drug-fueled aggression into the devastating pace.

"You’re mine, Zayn!" I roared, the words half-sob, half-command.

"YES! Ahhh! I’m yours! FUCK!"

The pressure built impossibly high, blinding me to everything but the final, devastating need. I pumped into him with a final, hard series of thrusts, feeling the explosive rush as I spilled myself deep inside him, the relief so intense it felt like drowning. I collapsed over his back, shuddering violently.

The second I regained a flicker of presence, I pulled out completely, rolling Zayn instantly onto his back. He was slick, panting, and shaking, his eyes dazed.

I positioned myself, my mouth descending immediately, urgently. I took him in, plunging deep and pulling back fast, sucking hard and wet, denying him any time to recover. The goal was singular: to obliterate the trauma of the previous night with an equally intense, but completely consensual, wave of pleasure.

"Mmm... Ahhh! Evric!" Zayn cried, his back arching, his hands digging into my hair.

I pressed harder, faster, sucking deeper until his hips began to buck wildly off the bed, his voice rising into a raw, desperate crescendo.

"Oh, YES! FUCK! DON’T STOP!"

His body shook beneath my mouth, his final, shattering release washing over my tongue, a profound, wet testament to his trust, I swallowed every drop.

I held him, staying there until his shuddering subsided, not moving until I heard the low, contented purr of his breathing begin to even out. The silence that followed was complete, broken only by the sound of our ragged breathing.

Finally, I lifted myself from him and settled back onto the pillows. "Come here," I murmured, my voice heavy with exhaustion and fulfillment.

Zayn moved instantly, tucking himself against my side, his head resting perfectly on my chest. I stroked his hair, running my fingers tenderly over the sweaty skin of his back, the best kind of aftercare.

"How do you feel?" I asked, looking down at the beautiful, flushed skin of his shoulder. "Be honest."

"Good," he sighed, the word drawn out and contented. "But... a little tired."

"Okay, baby. I’m sorry," I whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair. I paused, letting the silence settle again before calling his name, needing to hear him acknowledge me. "Zayn."

He looked up from my chest, his eyes hazy with post-climax serenity. I leaned down and kissed him, letting the lingering intimacy speak the apology I no longer needed to voice. "I love you, baby."

"I love you more," he replied, snuggling back into my chest.

We lay in silent repose for what felt like an hour. The rhythmic beat of my heart and the heavy satisfaction in the room were quickly lulling Zayn toward sleep; after our intensity, sleep always claimed him completely. Just as his breathing deepened, he spoke again, his voice barely a breath.

"Evric?"

"Yes, love," I answered, my eyes already closed, stroking his back.

"What are you going to do about Nicki?"