I knock twice. No answer.
I wait, tapping my foot against the corridor of Zion's apartment. The hallway is quiet and empty and seems drained of life. It is past 11pm and I am not supposed to be here. But what does it matter.
A faint line of lights glow beneath the door. I know that Zion is inside. I knock again, this time longer. And then the lock clicks. And the door opens.
Zion stands there, shirtless, fine, staring at me like he was expecting this but still doesn't know what to do with me.
"Na wa for you o" He mutters, stepping aside .
I smirk , walking past him "Na wa for me how".
He says nothing, just shuts the door behind me. I take my time looking around even if I practically know the number of tiles on the floor. His room is small, and neat. A reading table, a bed, a wardrobe. Bible on the table and stacks of textbooks piled beside it. I run my fingers through the stacks of textbooks, as if it was Braille and my fingers had eyes, as if it weren't the same textbooks in my room.
"Why are you here?" The question comes out of his mouth with a slight hesitance as if the words were scalding his tongue. He asks this most of the times, as if it was not his hands that had opened the door for me.
I turn to him . I smile.
"Why shouldn't I be here?" My own does not leave my mouth with a hesitance.
He runs a hand over his face and sits on the bed, watching me. His body is tense, like he's fighting something.
For a while, the only sound in the room is the restless clock ticking. And Zion's heart, beating so loud they were nearly blasting my ear drum.
I walk toward him, slowly.
"You are quiet" I say, with a teasing smile.
He exhales "Jade".
The way he says my name low, like a warning, like a plea. I step between his legs, squat down and run my fingers along his jaw .
"You are not going to tell me to stop ? " I ask quietly, my eyes staring straight into his .
His hands twitches on his thighs. His jaw clenches. He is trying to be strong. Trying so damn hard.
"Tell me to stop " I say again, this time my voice is only a whisper.
His grip on my waist is sudden, strong. He pulls me onto his lap, his breathe heavy against my neck. I bite my lip, shifting against him, feeling the effect I have on him.
"Fuck" He mutters, his fingers digging into my hips, lifting the flimsy , weightless dress I was wearing.
I smile "That is not very Christian of you".
His response is to kiss me, hard, desperate, like he's been holding this in for too long. His lips grinds against mine as if he wants to chew them raw. His hands slide under my dress, fingers hot against my skin. I arch into him, letting out a small sound that makes him groan against my mouth.
"Jade" He whispers. But it's different now. No more warning, no more hesitation.
I push him back against the bed, straddling him fully, rolling my lips just to hear that sound again, that sharp intake of breathe, that low needy exhale.
"You think about me when am not here?" I ask, placing my hands on his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat race.
Zion does not answer. But his hands tighten on me, his lips part like he wants to say something and I see the answer in his eyes.
I lean down, biting his bottom lip "That's what I thought" .
His control snaps.
He flips me on my back, pressing his body over mine, his mouth trailing down my neck, my collarbone. His hands slides beneath my dress, fingers teasing, making me shiver.
I laugh, breathless "Pastor Pikin".
His response is to slide his fingers deeper, making me gasp.
"Say my name" He murmurs against my skin.
And I do, over and over , until the only thing left in the room is the sound of my voice and the weight of his familiar body on mine.