Work Text:
Is it possible to love too much?
Zac prides himself on his healthy lifestyle. A strict, nutritious diet, religious work outs at the butt crack of dawn and a quick one before bed, three years sober (and counting), he’s close with his family and his friends have his back, and he’s recently picked up transcendental meditation, which has helped a shit ton more than decompressing from Bundy’s mindset.
Physical, mental, spiritual, emotional; he’s got them down packed.
But more importantly, he’s learned how to balance things. Everything in moderation. Except the booze and drugs, that is. It’s too much of a slippery slope to risk dabbling in again. They consumed him, until they were all he could think about.
Much like you.
Some days he thinks all he does is quit one habit for another. When he first got clean, he needed something to distract himself from the burning need for one more hit. So he turned to eating and working out until he was so jacked he barely recognised himself from the seventeen year old who sang show tunes and fell in love for the first time.
It’s the rush he’s really addicted to. He’s an adrenaline junkie through and through, and there’s no greater rush than falling in love.
He’s been in enough serious relationships to understand the feeling, but there’s something different about this one—about you.
Zac wipes the sweat from his eyebrows and pads into his bedroom. He took it easy this morning; he’s still feeling the effects of the cardio workout you both engaged in last night.
(If not in his muscles then certainly his cock.)
The heavy black out curtains are pulled back, and the drawn sheer material is no match for the yawning sunlight that creeps into the room. A puff of dust slow dances at the end of the bed, where your foot pokes out of the covers. The hills and valleys of the material pool at the base of your spine.
He stops dead.
Damn.
Gorgeous bare skin shines in the weak light, a shadow in the divot of your back, your frame rising and falling as you breathe evenly in your sleep. The side of your face is mashed into the pillow he left this morning.
He could get used to this.
Though he always feels rejuvenated for the day ahead post workout, he has half a mind to shed his gym shorts and crawl back into bed.
You moan, stretching sensually, and roll onto your side. You cuddle up against Maca who’s snoozing in his place, her grey fur blending into the sheets. Your eyebrows pinch, before your eyes flutter and you squint at him. “Time’s it?”
He grins and drops his towel in the hamper by the closet door. “Seven.”
You groan and shift around enough to jostle the Pitbull from her nap. “Too early.” You stretch out an arm, fingers curling at him lazily. “Come back to bed.”
“I just came back from a workout.”
You hide your yawn into Maca’s fur. “How the hell’d you get out of bed, let ’lone workout? You went pretty hard last night.”
His chest tightens, and he treks across the hardwood floor over to you. He took full advantage of his kegel exercises and went for four rounds, fucking you like he had something to prove. He can’t explain it—it was like he was possessed; obsessed with making you as delirious and wrecked as he feels when he’s with you. “Did I hurt you?”
“Are you kidding?” You grin as he perches on your side of the bed, and Maca glances at him, her tail swaying. “It was hot.” You pull yourself to sit up against the headboard, revealing the full length of your body to his appreciative gaze.
His fingers pulse with the need to touch you and pull breathy and needy sounds. He can never get enough of how you move against him, for him; of how you look at him as he brings you into an existence where it’s just the two of you. God, he lives for the way you clutch at him, his name tearing from your throat like he’s the only thing keeping you from losing your mind.
A cheeky smirk lights your eyes as you pull your leg up. “What’cha thinkin’ ’bout?” you ask, toes prodding his growing crotch.
He laughs, holding your foot in place. “How about I show you?” He licks his lips and moves a hand to brace himself as he leans forward.
Maca growls, and he pulls back.
“Jesus.”
You chuckle, playing with her ears. “Aw, Maca.”
Tail thumping against the comforter, she peers up at you with all the adoration he feels.
“Are you feeling left out? Do you want some kisses too?” You bend to give her an eskimo kiss, and he swears he’s never felt more envious of a dog.
She licks your chin as you scratch her ears, the floppy things jiggling.
He tugs on your foot, hard enough to pull you down. “What about me?”
You laugh, pushing at his abdomen with your foot. “What about you? Go shower, you smell.”
He shakes his head. “Shunned from my own bed.”
“You cruise, you lose.”
He chuckles. “Care to join?”
You hum snuggling further against Maca. “No. She’s so warm and cuddly.”
“I see you’ve picked your suitor.” He shakes Maca’s paw and she sniffs his hand. “Though it was an unfair fight, you were a worthy contender.” You laugh, and he fights a smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to live out the remainder of my lonely life in peace.” He makes his way to the en suite.
“I’m sure your consolation prize would be more than satisfactory.”
He glances over his shoulder to see your hand making an obscene gesture.
Affection swells into a quiet chuckle.
He could never quit you.
~&~
As the pitter-patter of the running shower permeates from the en suite, you squirm in barely restrained rapture. You bite your lip because if your smile gets any bigger your face is going to crack.
You’re stuck on the look that crossed his face, out of place in response to the crude joke you made. It’s an expression that you’ve been seeing more and more lately, in moments without rhyme or reason. You could be sitting on the couch with your feet in his lap, snacking on something as you’d watch a movie together. He’d look over at you, as if a thought had struck him; a warm secret that melts his expression into something soft and almost… tender.
You last all of two minutes before you slip out of bed and bound across the heated hardwood floors to join him in the shower.
The bathroom, much like the rest of his house, is lined with murky grey walls. Rolling steam floats out of the walk-in shower, softening the sharp beefy figure under the waterfall spray in the shower that’s big enough to be a room in and of itself.
This should be the view as one walks through the gates of Heaven.
The tiles are cold under your feet, and the steam sticks your naked body. It’s hard to breathe, and not all because of the humidity.
Zac has his back to you—a broad wall of muscle that slims down to a firm ass that clenches as he turns. The corner of his mouth lifts in a crooked smirk, and he lifts a chin in a cocky beckon.
Fighting the urge to cross your arms under his potent gaze, you open the glass door to slip in.
He reaches for you. “What took you so long?” he mutters, just loud enough to be heard over the trickle of water. He pulls you against his firm, wet chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist.
You could never get used to his strength. But it’s more than physical. He’s incredibly dedicated and focused, and he has such a big heart that people don’t care to see for the superficial beauty. It was the reason you resisted his advances at first; he was gorgeous—too gorgeous, and it made you defensive. What was a man like him doing chasing after someone like you?
Before you can say anything, his mouth catches yours.
You pull away and cover your mouth. “My breath…”
“I don’t care.” He pecks the back of your palm.
He may not, but it’s still too early on in the relationship to show him all your unattractive qualities.
You shake your head, corners of your eyes crinkling under your hidden smile.
Zac groans as you pull away.
“One second,” you say with a laugh, stepping out to grab the mouthwash on his vanity sink. You swish the fuzz out of your mouth until your tongue and cheeks tingle.
Through the foggy mirror, he whips his head out of the spray, splattering the glass door with soft thrums.
You step back in as he wipes water out of his eyes and spits.
He lifts a brow. “You good?”
“Minty fresh.” You exhale in his face and laugh as he grabs you.
You kiss, his goatee giving your mouth a different kind of fuzzy feeling. Humming, you wrap your arms around his neck, and the water beats down on your forearm.
Rough hands glide down your sides to grip your hips and pull you into him. His tongue swipes at the slit of your lips, much like he did last night, much lower. At your moan, he slides his tongue into your mouth.
The heat of the shower rivals the kiss. All you can do is cling to him as he attacks you with a randy passion equal to a teenager’s but the skill of an experienced lover.
You rise onto your toes to push into the kiss for some semblance of control, and your heart catches as a foot skids over the slippery tile.
Zac catches you, hauling you flush against him. “Shit, you okay?”
Panting through a racing heart, you nod. “Shower sex doesn’t seem so sexy now. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He squeezes you, the veins in his biceps bulging. “Closet sex?”
Mm… A rack of coats swallowing you as he ruts into you in the dark, getting lost in the smell of his cologne—mint and citrus—and clothes falling off hangers all around you.
Your fingers curl into him, and you let out a throaty laugh. “Wish we could, but I should be getting home.”
“Stay.” He turns the both of you so you’re under the spray, hands skim and caress down your body.
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready? Something about boys’ night?”
“Join us. They won’t mind. Dylan’s been asking about the next time he gets to see you again.”
You smile. “I think I’ll pass for tonight; I already have plans.”
“All right. Care to join me at the farmer’s market, or will you be with your other boyfriend?”
“I’ll have to check with him,” you say with a sly grin.
He licks his lips as his brows pinch for a split second. “Okay, I know I started the joke, but it’s not funny.”
You turn the shower off, and your ears pulse at the tinkle of water swirling down the drain and dripping off your bodies. “Come on, you know you’re the only one.” You thumb his chin and kiss him sweetly, pushing yourself into him. Your wet skin glides against his, and his abdomen clenches against you.
“Studio City?” he mutters. “We can take Maca for a walk, and I’ll buy you something yummy.”
“Only if you feed it to me.”
He chuckles. “Deal.” He grabs for the towel hanging off the hook on the opposite end of the shower and throws it around you.
You step out, and he pats you down between kisses. Once you’re dry, he hands you the towel to do the same to him. You drape it over his shoulders and squeeze his deltoids. “Hmm. You’re so… thick… hard.” You swallow and drag your gaze up his toned physique, splattered with drops of water, to his amused face. “Would it hurt if I punched you in the stomach?”
“Yes. But please don’t. I don’t want your hand all messed up.”
You laugh, and pull the towel over his head.
He scrubs his hair and yanks it off, revealing the strands standing every which way. “Come work out with me one day. I’ll teach you a few things.”
You drive a hand through his hair while the other wraps around his neck. “Um, no thanks. I won’t be able to keep up.”
He smiles, holding you against him by the small of your back and smearing water over your front. “I’ll go easy.”
“Can I watch you instead?” You tilt your head to the side.
His eyes soften, and he thumbs the corner of your up-tilted mouth.
“What?” you whisper.
“I just really love you right now.”
“You do?”
“Yeah,” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours.
Your eyes flutter shut. “I love you too.”
You could get used to this.