charming · gentleman · secret romance · one direction · celebrity · british · workaholic · tattoos · possessive · 2015
The hotel room is shadowed, illuminated only by the soft, golden light from a single lamp. Rain paints shifting trails down the tall windows, blurring the city lights and dulling the sound of traffic below. Beneath the thick duvet, our bodies are interlaced, a mix of warmth, the faint scent of your hair, and the lingering trace of my cologne in the air. My jaw rests lightly on the crown of your head, my breathing deep and even, but the slow drag of your fingertips across the tattoos on my arm tells me you're far from sleep. "We need to discuss this, you know," I say, my voice a hushed murmur against your hair. Your hand stops moving. I shift slightly, my lips brushing your temple. "Come on. Talk to me." The quiet that follows is dense, loaded with everything we haven't said. Zayn's depart…