Disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Zelda.

Oh God. Shut up shut up shut up! Dammit. Damn all the gods and goddesses to hell.

I open my eyes slowly while my head felt like it was going to split in two. Looking around—the room is unfamiliar. Sunlight was streaming in through a crack in the dark heavy curtains. As I move my legs, the sheets like silk on my skin, I realize that I'm naked.

I groan softly as I turn on my side gently.

That's when I see him.

His long blond hair is tumbling down over his shoulder. There was a peaceful look on his face with an air of someone finally getting some sleep after a long tiring day. His breathing was steady as he laid down on his stomach, an arm flung across my waist. The sheets only covered him from the waist down, but I can tell he's naked too. His arms were muscled but not overly so—just the way I like it… His back was—damn I could run my tongue down that spine.

And it hits me.

Oh my fucking God.

He is too handsome to be in my bed. Too well-built. Too… perfect. What…. What in the world happened last night?

I calm myself down and assess the situation. This room… This room is not mine. I look around. That cabinet is not mine. I prop myself on my elbows and I can see the door was thrown wide open. The living room was outside—clothes scattered around the floor.

I look back at the man beside me. He's still fast asleep. I take a deep breath as I lean in closer to his face and examined him closely. The bitch in my head that was banging drums and driving me insane with the headaches has taken a seat back in curiosity.

God. He's beautiful.

Judging from the pleasant ache and stickiness between my legs plus the crescent moon-shaped marks all over his shoulders—which matches my nails exactly, yes I checked— and red scratch marks down his back we had glorious sex last night. Snippets are coming back to me slowly, piece by piece.

He was holding me up against the wall at one point, thrusting upwards which explains this sore spot that I have on my upper shoulders—I get excited just by thinking about it. My cheeks feel hot as I try to remember everything.

I was at this bar I've gone to after… After that asshole dumped me at dinner. He said I was too… safe. Boring. Damn him. Seven fucking years of dating and he tells me this now. That I'm fucking boring?!

I've been walking for what—an hour or so? I don't even know. So, when I see a bar advertising beer and drinks with colorful lights I burst through the doors. I wanted to leave just when I came in. It was so unlike me to just be up and spontaneous about what I am doing but I was just so angry. So fucking angry at him for dragging me around like this for so long. As I stood there in the middle of the crowd, the lights in my head seem to have gone out and there was just this… blankness. It was scary but comforting at the same time.

But I have to get out of this town. I fished my phone out of my purse just to see it blinking—blinking—dead.

Fuck. Not only do I get dumped—but I am stuck in an unfamiliar town with no phone. Fuckity fuck.

Tiptoeing, I spy the bartender at the far end of the room. Maybe he can lend me a charger or something. I squeezed through gyrating bodies and reached the counter. Luckily, a woman just got off her stool and I dashed towards it. I clambered on it.

The counter was not crowded but it was noisy. The bartender had to lean in close while I shout in his ear as I explain the situation. With a kind smile, he took my phone and plugged in to a socket behind the bar. With a hoarse voice, I ordered a beer.

"One beer coming right up." He said and handed me a tall glass full of the golden stuff.

I actually like beer. And alcohol in general. I've had the occasional glass of wine or two because Er—should call him ex now. Not by his name—said that drinking is unbecoming for a lady. Unbecoming my foot. Well news flash, asshole. First you tell me that drinking is unbecoming then you complain about me being too boring? Fuck you to the seven pits of hell. I gulped the bitter drink down as its cool and refreshing taste perked me up. I look around the place with the flashing lights and loud music and—that's when I see him.

That fucking ex-boyfriend of mine that broke up with me earlier that night during dinner is in the same bar. It's dark but I've spent seven years dating the man and I can spot him in a crowd. He's here. His arm around a girl.

A girl.

Where the fuck did he get a girl the same night as breaking up with your seven-year-girlfriend? Unless the bitch was cheating on me all along.

The blankness that was calm and comforting to me earlier has turned into a rage at the sight of him taking the girl's hand and dragging her through the dance floor. Judging from the way he maneuvered through the place—this is not the first time he's been here.

Now the asshole is dancing.

He's dancing, thrusting his hips towards her.

And she likes it.

And I can't… I can't keep my eyes off them even though all I want to do is look away.

When they started kissing—that's when I force myself and go back to my beer, grinding my teeth then gulping the rest of it down in one swig.

"You mad or something?"

A low voice was speaking to me that I can barely hear through the loud music. I look to my right to see the bluest eyes I have ever seen in my entire life. It was like I was looking up at the sky but better—loads better. For a moment, I freeze.

"You okay?" He asked in that same low voice that has me distracted from what I'm really mad at.

I nod frantically before he thinks I'm a fucking weirdo.

"Yes." I managed to answer. Act cool. Act cool. Act cool. I wave to the bartender and get another glass of beer which he puts in front of me and takes the empty one.

I look at him at the corner of my eye.

He's wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His sinewy forearms were enticing I wanted to prod and touch it. His blonde hair was tied back loosely in a ponytail. His long fingers were caressing the edge of his glass filled with something dark. The ice cubes clink against each other as he swirled the glass around almost disinterested in the activities around him.

God. My heart is thumping so loud and blood is rushing through my ears as I remember the scene on the dance floor. I look back over my shoulder and they're still at it.

Fucker. Suck her face right off why don't you.

"Excuse me?" The Greek god asked in a tone of surprise.

And I clap a hand over my mouth as I realize in that split second that I actually said those words out loud.

"Fucker?"

I bowed my head apologetically. Fuck, I'm such a klutz. "Sorry! I wasn't referring to you."

He raised an eyebrow—studying me closely. Then the corner of his lips curved upward and he chuckled. He went back to his drink.

My face is burning now with embarrassment. "I'm really sorry." I said again leaning just a little bit closer.

He inclined his head. "Okay."

I can tell he's a man of few words.

"What did you see that made you so mad?"

I took a deep breath. "My ex."

He swiveled in his stool with his elbows on the counter, looking over the crowd of dancing people. "Where?"

Be still my heart. I turned in my seat and pointed towards the middle. It was like watching someone eat right off a buffet.

"Kissing?"

I nod.

"Oh." He turned back towards the bar and I followed suit.

Oh? What the hell does that mean? "Oh?"

He cupped his cheek, resting his elbow on the counter. He looked at me. "Yes. Oh."

"Just 'Oh'?"

"Just 'Oh'."

Damn. Now I'm intrigued.

I take another gulp of my beer. "Tell me what you really think."

He's still looking at me and I thank that this bar is dark. He can't see me blushing. You were just dumped earlier this morning. What's this? It takes him a while to answer.

"It's a good thing he's an ex."

I can't tell if he's making fun of me. He looks so serious. "Because I'm too boring for him?"

He shakes his head slowly. "Because you're too good for him."

And my confidence falters. "That's not what he said when he broke up with me earlier."

His eyebrows are raised at me again as he takes a sip. "Earlier?"

I sighed heavily. "Yes."

"Like this morning?"

I shake my head and drink again. "Try… an hour ago or so." I am so embarrassed to look at him now, so I bow my head and cradle my beer.

"Asshole."

His one comment made me smile though. I can't help it but let out a giggle. Slowly, I raise my head and look at him. His blue eyes were staring at me so intensely it's like he's combing through me—examining me with such precision. I feel open—vulnerable and yet… strangely enough… I don't sense any hostility from him. I feel… safe.

"Tell me more."

And so, I do.

I start from when we knew each other from high school. Then we started dating back in college. How he's been so sweet but changed when we graduated and started working. And how lately, he has not been paying attention to me—picking fights. He's been pushing me to go out more—dress more daringly—ugh.

"That fucker. He must have been cheating on me this whole time." I said grudgingly. The words are now coming out of my mouth in torrents. I've had what? How many to drink now?

Somewhere along my narrative, I've taken a drunken sip of his drink which burned the back of my throat but heated me up from the inside. It set me aflame and I wanted more. So, when our glasses were empty, he called the bartender for shots.

"And he has the audacity to tell me—that I'm boring?!" I shrieked as I knocked back another shot. I feel light-headed, but I feel good. Free.

"I was a fucking delight back in college! I went out with my friends and I drank and went to parties but when we started dating—suddenly I wasn't allowed to fucking curse! Well, fuck you, Mr. Ex. I can curse anytime anywhere I damn want!"

"So he changed you?"

"Yes!" I hollered.

"Why did you?"

The question made me think a little bit. Yeah. Why did I? "I think… I just kept on thinking that we'd get past this, you know? Like it's the seven-year-snooze or something. And he's right. I dumbed myself down so he wouldn't feel emasculated and I don't know. I don't give a fuck. I'm just so fucking mad at myself right now because I let it happen."

I was on a roll and he gave off the right comments—interjected with the right answers. He laughed at the funny parts. Was he teasing me now?

I stopped suddenly as I grabbed the edge of the counter. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" He asked in that same damn quiet voice with a ghost of a smile on his lips. He grabbed the shot and drank it in one gulp—no reaction on his face whatsoever.

"Smile at me." I said with squinty eyes.

I thought I just told you not to.

"And why not?"

I waved my hands in front of his face. "No no no!"

But his long fingers wrapped around my wrists, forcing my hands down. "I am not smiling at you." He said incredulously.

But he was. He really was.

It was not a big smile. But his eyes were twinkling, and his lips were curved in such a delicious way I wonder how they would feel against my skin. Fuck how good is he at kissing? I can only fucking imagine. He looks like he's good. Damn, he looks like he could kiss me out of my fucking mind. Shit. I want his kisses. I want them everywhere—all over my body. And damn I want them between my—

"Legs?"

I nod absent-mindedly. Blissfully unaware that I was saying the words as I think of them.

Now the smile has gotten bigger. Oh, my fucking God. That's a fucking killer. It's a trap. It's a fucking trap.

But he closed his mouth—his lips a tight line and he spoke softly, leaning towards me, our noses almost touching. "Do you know that you think aloud?"

And I had to mentally slap myself. "What?"

"You. Think. Aloud." He said as he let go of my hands and waved to the bartender for another round.

I was in a daze. "What do you mean I think aloud?"

He handed me my shot when they came. "You were wondering how my lips would feel against your skin, if I am a great kisser. And how you want them kisses between your legs." He said that straight without a beat. He didn't even flinch.

And I stop in my tracks, my face blushing furiously. There was no other way around it. I can't exactly fucking run out of the place and hide. Oh, Great Earth, please open and swallow me whole! "Damn, I'm a real piece of work, huh?"

But he just inclined his head and using his forefinger, pushed the edge of the shot glass to my mouth. "Drink up."

I knock it back—the liquor numbing my throat—and I put it back down on the counter. "You must think I'm a fucking weirdo. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Think about me like that?" He said—again with that smile. Dammit. Damn it all to hell. Damn me now.

Resigned, I throw my hands in the air. "I told you not to do that."

"Smile at you?"

"Yes. It's your fault I am so into you right now." I said prodding his arm with my finger. "Stop smiling at me."

"I don't mind." He said with a chuckle.

I have completely forgotten about my ex as I drown myself in our conversation. I tell him about my childhood. I can't stop talking. He's looking at me and listening, drinking everything I have to say. All my stories about how I spent my life running around the fields behind our house. I told him how I liked reading and coffee, how I like my breakfast—pancakes and bacon in the morning. I told him how I like my coffee—black, of course—and how I can spend an entire weekend devouring books one after another. I told him how I find comfort in the rain and how I get cold easily—always needing socks because I dislike cold floors. I told him how I have five stuffed animals—3 dogs, a shark and a bear. I told him how I have a weighted blanket because I like being 'hugged'. I told him that I sleep better if someone is playing with my hair. I told him everything.

Everything.

It was refreshing—to pour myself out to a stranger who just… listens. A weight, I've never realized I've been carrying around with me, has been lifted.

But like all good things—they must come to an end.

I feel a prod on my shoulder and I get cut off midsentence. I twist in my seat to see the scumbag, Eric, looking down at me.

"This is a surprise. We break up a few hours ago and you're already at a bar."

I look at him—how in the hell did I fall in love with this guy. Flashes of him kissing that girl earlier resurfaced and I will not let myself be bullied around by him anymore. "Oh, fuck off."

"Colorful choice of words, honey." He took my chin and all I wanted was to punch him in the face.

"I could say the same to you. We break up a few hours ago and you're already at a bar." I spat at him.

"This is unlike you. Just because we broke up doesn't mean you can just start getting drunk in bars. What in the hell—are you trying to pick up some guys?!" Eric said aloud right to my face.

My newfound courage and the results of my ranting—fueled by beer and vodka—had me so fucking brave I could not even believe myself. I raised my right hand and slapped him hard across the face. The people around us were shocked but mostly left us to our own devices.

"How dare you?!" Eric said as he staggered back a few steps. His hair—always perfectly coiffed—was in disarray and I couldn't help but laugh at him. "You bitch!"

"Go back to your date, Eric. We're done." I said as I clambered back up on my stool.

"Zel—"

"Fuck off." I slap his hand that was holding on to my shoulder attempting to turn me back around. But he gripped the other and that's when my blue-eyed friend stood up and grabbed Eric's arm.

"She asked you to fuck off, Eric." His deep voice that was so endearing and calming earlier has shifted slightly—he sounded dangerous.

"Who the fuck are you?! That's my girlfriend and I can—"

I look over my shoulder to see Eric red in the face. He was shorter as my blonde knight in shining armor towered over him.

"I thought you said you already broke up." With a forceful shove, Eric staggered backwards.

I watched him as he struggled to decide what to do—glaring daggers at me and then to my knight then back at me. It's the same look he has when he's frustrated. Like when I am ten minutes late and I made him wait. Or when he missed his 'very important' game because I didn't wake him up. Or when he does not get something he wants. "Found such a quick replacement for me, huh? You whore. Finally showing off your true fucking colors." He said menacingly.

His words hurt. But they also made me angrier. He still has the audacity to try and turn the tables around and pretend that he's the fucking victim. "Fuck off, Eric. Don't pretend like I didn't see you sucking off a girl's face earlier." I said and go back to facing the counter. I didn't watch him leave but soon enough, my knight settled back beside me and ordered another round. I assume the ex is gone.

There was silence between us. "Sorry." I said after the next shot.

"He's an asshole." He said as he propped his chin on his hands and looked over at me.

But I can't. Earlier—I was already feeling better. But that damn ex had to come and ruin the mood. Now I'm drunk and single and alone and in a bar and back to being damn miserable.

"Don't let him get to you."

I nodded absent-mindedly when I feel a finger poke my cheek. I look at him. Those blue eyes are hypnotizing I can't look away. As he surveys me quietly, I feel the same calm blankness come back slowly. It was at war with the loneliness. And I need to dig myself out. I refuse to be sad tonight. Not tonight.

"Ask me something." I blurted out.

He pursed his lips. "Like what?"

"Anything. Anything else that can distract me."

"What do you do for a living?" He asks. It was a topic we didn't get to reach during my narration.

And I pursed my lips as I grabbed a handful of nuts from near the end of the table and offered some to him. He took one and rolled it between his fingers before popping them into his mouth. "Guess."

"Modeling?"

I laugh. This is hilarious. Me? A model? I wish.

"I guess not. Because if you are, I would have seen you before."

I press my palms to my cheeks as I try to catch my breath. "What do you mean 'before'?"

But he waved his hand away. "Never mind. Tell me. What do you do?"

And I take another shot before answering. "I… am a developer."

And his eyes widen. "A developer?" He asked, "like building applications and computer stuff?"

I nod as I try to keep myself from giggling. But my face was quickly heating up again from his comment. It's always the same. When people hear what I do for a living—they tell me I don't look like one. People think we all look like nerds with glasses and action figures or whatever. Fucking stereotypes. I don't blame him.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as an office worker." He said with a small smile as he takes more nuts from his side of the counter and offers some to me.

"Well, I am. I like coding. I like how it's so… black and white. Every problem has a solution and all the pieces just seem to fit together. The satisfaction of seeing your work that was just made up of algorithms and pieces of code is incomparable." I said with a grin.

"I can tell that you really like what you are doing."

I nod vigorously. Mr. Ex has never shown any interest in my work. Well, he did when I started out. But he has always been so skeptical of me working in the IT industry despite studying Management Engineering back in college. "My ex didn't think so. He said it was a boring job. That as soon as we get married, I should just stay at home because I don't earn much anyway."

"Well, he doesn't matter anymore."

And I agree. I take another look at him. He really is a work of art. Looking at him makes me… feel things. Things that I've never felt before. Not with my ex. With him, there was no… excitement. With this guy… He keeps me guessing. He's several layers of mystery that I want to uncover. My clumsiness and outspokenness earlier has me embarrassed and any pervert would have already taken advantage of me or would have left me by now. But here he still is… He's still talking to me.

"Do you think I'm too plain? Too boring?" I ask him.

And he turns in his chair and leans forward. Inches of air separate the two of us. And my heart is pounding loudly. His eyes were like the ocean and I could drown in them and not give a fuck. There is something… something is definitely happening between us. I can feel the air reacting to us and if this was a movie there'd be like a freaking halo of flowers or slow background music or anything that would signal some sort of connection between this piece of art and me. He is looking into my eyes and I am looking into his and I hold my breath.

"I don't think you are." He said almost too seriously.

"Why?"

"I sense passion in you."

"Passion?"

"He's kept you under his thumb this whole time, you don't even realize how amazing you are." He said softly. His words are like a fresh breeze on my skin. I blush furiously. Nobody has ever told me this before. Nobody has complimented me with these words. 'Amazing' and 'passionate' are not words used to describe me. I was the plain one. The safe one. The boring one.

"It's sad that he is so threatened by you… he's managed to suppress your shine." His hand reached out towards me and took in his palm a lock of my long hair. He pressed the strands between his fingers. "You cuss like no other but it's because you're just so… honest."

"You're making me blush." I said. The loud music seems to have gone on mute in my head. And all I could hear is him breathing and his deep voice that sends ripples of excitement all throughout my body.

He smiles a little—just a little. His lips are curved deliciously again, and I take a deep breath.

"I doubt you do that very often."

"I don't… I am drunk." I admit as I gulp and manage to get the words out.

"Yes, you are." He says, taking hold of my chin, his thumb caressing my skin.

"You're too close." I whisper. And I mentally scold myself for thinking out loud again.

But instead of moving away, he comes closer. Three inches left—maybe. I can't judge the distance. I inhale deeply. "Do you mind?"

"No." I say almost too quickly. I want to feel those lips on mine.

"You have 'kiss me' eyes." He said. That thumb was setting me on fire and I can't move, transfixed and hypnotized by his gaze.

"I'm sorry." I say. I am not. The liquor is fueling all my emotions—my desire, my courage. I don't know if it's just me who is feeling the tension. It's a tightly strung bow and one flick will unravel everything. I gather the courage and ask him, "will you?"

His gaze caressed my skin slowly and I know he is staring at my mouth. The tip of my tongue comes out and I lick my bottom lip slowly. I can't help it. Seeing him look at me like that makes me…. wanton. "Do you want me to?" He said softly.

I know we both want it. This man—I don't even know his name. I don't even know who he is. I just spent most of the night telling him about me and my worries and my job and my ex and I don't know a thing about him. But I want it. I want him. I want all of it.

I do not believe in love at first sight. But I believe in fate. Everything that I've ever done has led me here—right at this very moment. Fate has landed me in this bar to meet this man who now has me trapped under his gaze, my chin on his hand.

"Yes." I say confidently albeit drunkenly.

"Why?" He does not move away.

"I feel like I've been trapped for the last seven years. I'm coming up for a breath of fresh air for the first time." I say honestly.

"I am not a distraction." He says. His thumb has moved from my chin. It's now tracing my lower lip so slowly its making my toes curl.

"What—who are you?" I ask.

"You really don't know?" His eyebrows were knitted together—he is not kidding. Does he think that I knew who he was this whole time? Should I? Is he a celebrity or something? I don't really watch tv though. For all I know, he could be. I have not seen him before although there is something in his face that seems familiar. "You don't know me. Do you still want me to kiss you?" He asks.

His fingertip is cool on my lip. Now his hand has moved to cup my cheek and I lean in instinctively. God, I want him. He chuckles softly, and I melt.

"Yes." I breathed.

And he moves closer.

I want to close the distance between us. The air is electric, and the back of my neck is tingling. There is excitement coursing through me. I know this is weird. This is not fucking normal. This kind of stuff happens only in movies. You don't get broken up with at dinner and land in a bar with a fucking work of art who is just perfect.

But the tension is slowly dissipating. What is he waiting for? What is he… "Don't you want to?" I ask him, unsure. He wouldn't be this close to me… He wouldn't give me this much attention if he didn't like me. And it hit me. "You think I'm pathetic?!" I say aloud.

I move away—disgusted with myself. But before I can, he-

He…

He slipped his fingers through my hair and grasped the back of my neck and before I knew it his lips were on mine and he is kissing me and kissing me and kissing me like I've never been kissed before.

God fucking damn. I was right. He could kiss. He could kiss me to the stars and I will not complain. His lips were soft but firm and through my drunk-altered mind all I can feel is him.

It was hard and passionate and fierce, he was biting my lower lip and then sucking and then his tongue was inside, fighting with mine and I responded in kind. I couldn't breathe, and I was trapped between his hand and mouth and I didn't want to be anywhere at this very moment. This is the place I want to be.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. But when we separated, our foreheads were touching, and we were both catching our breath, panting.

"That was…" I breathed out. There were no words to explain it as I fought to calm my racing heart. My lips were tingly and sore, and I want to kiss him again and I feel exhilarated.

"Intense." He finished for me as he stared straight into my eyes.

I was rooted to the spot and I smile at him.

But our moment was cut short by the bartender coming back and slamming our shots down on the counter. I flinch, and he does too. Reluctantly, he lets me go and grabs the shot, downing it in one gulp. His eyes are still on me. I follow suit and drink too.

The bartender comes back with my phone and a smile. "All charged up!"

"Thank you!" I answer back. And I remember what I was supposed to do. Oh right. I came here to get my phone charged. I took the phone to see several missed calls from Mr. Ex. I check the times—it was just when I left the restaurant. I lock the phone screen and slip the phone into my bag.

"Time to go?" His deep voice is back and I look at him.

"I don't have a ride." I say. I can get an Uber but that—I don't say.

And he smiles at me—not a lot—just a little.

He waves at the bartender. He takes out his wallet and I feel uncomfortable—I rush to get mine too. But a hand stops me. "I got this," he says.

I stop as he dumps a couple of bills on the counter. He gets off his stool and I just realize how fucking tall he was. Not so much. But he is… built. He looks like he can lift me up and carry me and his legs go on and on and—

He is chuckling. And I stop. "Am I thinking out loud again?"

He nods. I blush again. I seem to be blushing a lot tonight. "Sorry."

He shakes his head. "I am not that tall."

I clutch my purse and get off my stool but that move was wrong. The world started to spin, and I stumble. But his hands stop my fall, and he cradles me. My full weight was on him and he is already half-carrying me. I feel ashamed. "I'm sorry," I mumble as I press my palm on my forehead.

"It's okay." He says as he leads me slowly out of the bar.

It was nice to be out of that place. The night air was refreshing, and I take deep breaths. He leads me to a bench across the street beside a parked motorcycle. I sit on it and he sits beside me, an arm still around my shoulders.

I lean into him. "Usually, I feel uncomfortable with strangers touching me." I say aloud.

"Hmm?"

"Back in high school, I was invited to a prom by this guy who obviously liked me. But I didn't like him that way. And he… held my hand for the pictures. I could tell he was nervous. But I flinched. It was so awkward, and I feel so guilty because I couldn't bring myself to dance with him and have his hands on me."

As if to tease me or something, his hand that was around my shoulders touch my skin—his fingers tracing patterns on my arm. "But this is okay?" His deep voice asks me.

And I nod as I look up to him. "I don't know why. But there's something about you…"

"Something about me?"

I nod.

"Explain." His fingers are still tracing patterns on my skin and it's turning me on. I shift in my seat and look at him squarely.

Do I dare? I think about it… Yes. I do.

"There is something about your eyes in this moment… That makes me think… I am safe with you." I say confidently.

He cups my face and he is so beautiful. "Are you always this trusting?"

I shake my head.

"You shouldn't be."

I shake my head again. "I feel like I can trust you."

He smiles again. "Thank you."

Since he said it, I feel just a little bit scared. And so, I ask him, "Are you a bad person?"

He raises his eyebrows as he thinks about it. "We've all done bad things, but that doesn't make us bad people."

I lean back against his arm again and look up at the sky. He shifts under me and pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He takes one and lights it up. When he sees me staring, he inclines his head, "Do you mind?"

I hear myself say no. He is getting sexier by the minute.

The wind blows, and I shiver a bit. I didn't have a jacket on me since I came by car. But he took his leather jacket that was slung across his other shoulder and helped me into it.

It smelt faintly of cigarettes and old leather and… cinnamon? Is that cinnamon? He puts his arm around me again and I tuck myself against his side.

"Are you still up for driving?" I ask. We did have a lot to drink.

He nods. "I'm alright."

He does seem like he still has his wits about him. I certainly am not allowed to operate any heavy machinery anymore—let alone a laptop. In my state, I keep my phone tucked inside my purse to prevent drunk calls and texts.

"Do you really want to go home?" he asks.

No. I don't want the night to end. I just got dumped but this moment is perfect and he's perfect. If I go home, I go back to my boring life and this will be like it never happened.

"Where will you take me?"

He puffs out a cloud of smoke into the air as he smiles down at me. "It's a secret."

I nod. I've been told not to anywhere with a stranger, but I want to go. I want to go to his secret place. I want to—I want to—I want to. He pulls his arm out of around my shoulders and stands up, offering me his hand. He takes a set of keys from the back pocket of his jeans and twirls them around his fingers. He throws away the butt of his cigarette.

His hand was warm against mine that I'm sure is damn cold. But he doesn't mind, and he pulls me toward the parked motorcycle. I stood there, swaying on the spot as he takes his helmet from the compartment and puts it on my head. "I only have one. You have it."

I do not protest. His hands were working on the straps but I want them all over my body.

"Scared?" He asks as he fastens the buckle under my chin.

I shake my head. I am excited.

He gets on it and takes out the kickstand. He turns it on and a deep rumbling sound of a powerful machine tore through the night and it sets me on edge. Scooting backwards, he makes some space for me in front of him. "I don't think you'll be able to hold on from behind. Do you mind being in front?"

"Is this a good time to tell you that I have not been on a motorbike before?" I say, hoping he doesn't hear the anxiety in my voice. I am nervous but more excited. I can hear this imaginary voice in my head screaming not to get on motorbikes with strange cool guys.

"Noted." He said with the same smile. His hair was blowing in the wind and it's golden and he's beautiful. He extends a hand and helps me up. My feet do not even touch the ground. My back was pressed upon his chest. The helmet muffles my hearing a bit but I can still hear him.

"Where do I—" I didn't know where to put my hands.

But he takes them in his and leads them to the handlebars. "You can hold from here. But do not steer."

I nod slowly.

And he starts. The tank of the motorbike is right underneath me and I feel it vibrating and it sets me on edge and I feel hot and sexy.

I guess it's almost midnight. The part of town we were in is famous for partygoers and I see groups of teenagers going to the different bars. But soon we were out in the main road and he was driving so fast and on different circumstances, I would have been scared shitless, but I laugh and raise my hands and I hear him chuckle from behind me and I feel the wind on my face and all I know is this was magical. Magical. Magical.

I don't know how long we've been riding but he turned right off the road and parked in front of a convenience store. He gets off the bike and I look at him questioningly. "Five minutes." He says with a smile as he hands me the keys.

And I stay there waiting, looking through the glass windows watching him get water, a six-pack, some chocolate bars. I watch him move through the store gracefully and swiftly and line up at the cashier.

I look around us. It was a deserted street with a few cars. I am not familiar with this part of town still. The night air was still blowing hard and I'm grateful for his jacket. I look back at the convenience store and see him signing something. He's exchanging a few words with the cashier—must be the receipt. With another bow, the cashier hands him his bag and he leaves through the door.

"Sorry." He says as he walks briskly towards me.

I shake my head, "not even five minutes."

He ties the bag to one of the handlebars and gets on behind me again. He takes the keys from my hand and starts the bike again.

Once more we were off. The wind was rushing through my ears and I savor this feeling. Motorbikes are dangerous—they say. Yeah right. I feel like I am flying.

I get a little sleepy. The alcohol is finally kicking in. But before I could fall asleep, we ride through an uphill road. And there were trees all around. He turns left towards a clearing and I gasp in awe.

He parks. And I stare at the view in front of me—the entire city below us, twinkling lights in the distance. It was beautiful.

He helps me off the bike and removes the helmet. He runs his fingers through my hair, loosening the strands and I feel embarrassed. "You don't have to do that." I say.

But he shakes his head. "I like your hair."

That makes one of us. I have this love-hate relationship with my hair. Sometimes, I get this urge to cut it all off, but I know I'd miss it. It reaches past my butt and it's a literal pain in the ass. But it does have its moments. Hearing him say he likes it… This is one of those moments.

"That is perfect." I breathed out in awe, pointing to the view.

He grabs the bag and leads me to a spot on the grass. He sits down and pulls me down beside him. He fishes out the bottle of water from the bag and hands it to me uncapped. "Drink up."

I take it and gulp it down. I was thirstier than I anticipated and drank more than half of it. He reaches for it and puts the cap back on when I'm done. He hands me a block of chocolate, peeled, and I take a square and pop it into my mouth.

He takes a can of beer and drinks deep.

"Do you want one?"

I think about it and nod. I feel sober compared to when we left the bar. A beer wouldn't hurt. I nod. He opens one and hands it to me.

No one speaks and I don't mind. There are those people who are uncomfortable with silences and I am not one of them. Clearly, he isn't too.

The city is sprawled beneath us. Up here, problems seem minute. Up here, I feel invincible—untouchable.

"Yeah, me too." He says.

I look at him. "I really need to stop thinking out loud." I giggle as I take another swig of my beer.

He shakes his head. It was dark around us, but my eyes are already accustomed to the darkness.

"Thank you for bringing me here." I whisper as I hug my knees. The jacket was working fine but the wind was blowing, and my legs are cold.

I feel him shift around me and it was a second too late before I see his legs come up around me and I feel his chest on my back. I freeze. But in a good way.

"You're cold." It was not a question.

I nod as he rests his chin on my shoulder. "There's something about you… that's pulling me towards you."

I want to look at him, but his breath is hot on my ear and I look that way we're going to kiss again, and I want to. But I want to hear what he has to say first.

His elbows were on his knees, right hand on his beer.

"What's your name?" He asks.

I shake my head. "If I tell you, you have to tell me yours."

He thinks about it. "Let's keep the mystery a little longer."

I nod. I don't mind.

His left arm moves, and I watch it curl around my waist. He pulls me closer. My heart is thumping loudly as my back presses against his chest. I hold my breath.

"You can lean on me, you know."

I feel heat on my face as he realizes that I've been keeping my back straight so as not to lean on him. I let go of all tension and settle back into him. He tucks me under his chin, my head on his shoulder as he pulls me closer.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I say with a square of chocolate in my mouth. I broke off another piece and feed him one too. My fingers touch his lips briefly and I feel him shrug.

"I don't know yet." He says.

"When you do, you will tell me, right?" I ask him.

He nods with a chuckle. "Promise."

We talk about nothing and everything. But really—it's just me who's doing all the talking. I continue my narration. I answer his every question. Soon enough the beers are gone and I was drunk again—the second time that night.

I vaguely remember him cleaning up and carrying me back to the motorbike. I remember his arm around my waist keeping me still as he drove a bit slower this time, and I slipped in and out of consciousness.

I woke up when I hear him in my ear. "Hey… hey…" He called out. I open my eyes as I am being put down on the ground. "You awake?" He asks. I nod. I watch him take out his keys and open the door. He leads me inside.

"You didn't get to tell me your address, so I took you home." He says almost apologetically. I shake my head as I step inside and kick off my heels. I close the door behind me. With a finger, I push in the lock and I hear it click.

He took me home. My heart is thumping and seeing him move through his kitchen, flipping light switches, gesturing and showing me the way. "That's the bathroom That's the living room. You can take a shower first—I can lend you some clothes. Here is—" he stops in his tracks when he sees me standing in the same spot in my bare feet.

"You, okay?" He asks—a hint of worry in his voice as he walks towards me again.

I shrug off his jacket and it falls on the floor. I don't bend to pick it up. I am witnessing perfection in front of me and I remember how he kissed me. I remember how he pulled me close against him as we look over the city. I remember his touch, his breath on my ear.

"Kiss me." I say confidently.

And I see a change in his eyes.

We close the distance between us and he kisses me hard, lifting me off my feet as I wrap my legs around his waist. It was frantic—much more passionate than the kiss at the bar. He sets me down on the kitchen counter as his fingers thread through my hair—almost pulling, almost hurting.

I bite his lower lip and he groans as he slants his mouth over mine, his tongue inside—exploring. I am euphoric as we fight over dominance of the kiss. My fingers were fumbling with the buttons of his shirt—I don't know if he wants this too. But I know I do. And I am frantic. I want his mouth on every inch of my body.

My lips are bruised from all his biting and I don't mind. I'm sure his are too. I moan as he kisses me, nipping at the skin—down to my jaw. He sucks at my neck and my legs around his waist tighten as I pull him closer.

Finally, all buttons are off and I drag it off of him. He gets out of it without breaking the kiss—tossing the shirt to the floor. He pulls the strap of my dress down my arms and his mouth continues its assault on my skin as he bites me hard on my shoulder. I groan at the delicious pain and feel his hand taking the zipper of my dress and bringing it down. My dress falls apart and pools at my waist. His fingers nimbly unclasp my bra and he pulls the straps off my arms.

I let him. I don't stop him.

Naked from the waist up, I take a deep breath as his hands travel down to my waist. He stops kissing me and I moan in desperation. He pulls back and looks at me.

I blush under his gaze and I want to cover my breasts, but I take a deep breath and let him look. I've looked at myself in the mirror before and I don't think I look that bad. My ex certainly didn't look at me like that. We didn't have that much sex. But under this man's gaze… he's biting his lower lip seductively as I melt under his eyes. I feel like I'm a fucking goddess with the way he looks at me.

I look at him too. His chest was to die for and I want my hands on him, so I touch. He inhales sharply. I trace his chest down to his abs—fuck he has abs. Fuck. And that sexy V disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.

The moment was pregnant with desire and the promise of glorious sex awaits.

"Hey?" I whisper.

"You're beautiful." And he kisses me again. If possible, even more frantic than before. My hands reached his waistband and I unbutton it. He doesn't stop me—he even helps me. He pulls his pants down and steps out of them.

"Boxers." I mumble against his lips as he kissed me back down to my neck. I like boxers. I like the boxers-kind-of-guy.

He stops kissing me and presses his forehead with mine. "Are you sure about this?" he groans as his hands gather my skirt and go under them. His fingers were tracing the hem of my panties and I nod.

"Say it." He says roughly as he kisses me hard for another moment.

"I want you." I say as he tugs my panties down and off my legs. He throws it across the room and I don't give a fuck where it lands. I tug at his hair and pull him back for another kiss.

His fingers travel back under my skirt, and he touches me. He touches me… He's touching me, and I fall apart in his hands. He inserts a finger—then two—and I fall apart some more.

"You're so warm… and soft and wet." He murmurs against my shoulder as I moan into his ear. He continues the assault against my clit with his thumb and I writhe in pleasure. I'm breathless as I close my eyes and he curls his fingers just so…

I feel his mouth on my nipple and I writhe some more as the tendrils of pleasure surge within me. I am a bundle of nerves as he takes me into his mouth greedily and his tongue and fuck—yes—yes—yes—right there.

My chest was heaving, and I know I'm flushed pink and I'm watching him with heavy-lidded eyes as he pumps with his fingers—faster. A rush of heat pools in my lower belly and I bite my lower lip as my nails dig into his skin.

"Come for me." He whispers almost too calmly.

And I do. I really do. I fall apart and tilt my head back as inhale sharply and moan loudly. A shudder goes through my whole body—centered on that one spot he keeps on hitting over and over again. Stars explode against my closed lids as I come back slowly from my high. He rode it out with me, pumping slowly.

I exhale and try to catch my breath. As he kisses me. Slower than before. "Ready?" he murmurs against my lips as he pulls back and licks his fingers clean. Fuck. He's that kind of guy. Oh God. "Please." I whisper.

I pull his boxers down and his length brushes against my hand. I grasp it and give it a few strokes. He shudders and groans against my lips. I am almost shaking in anticipation. He's certainly bigger than my ex. I'm not sure if I can take him.

His hand touches me on my lower back and he pulls me closer to the edge of the counter—level with his member. He covers my fingers with his and joins me in the stroking. His eyes are on fire and I am on fire and we are on fire.

"What's your name?" I whispered hurriedly.

"Why?" He asks in this rough voice that sends me into overdrive.

"So, I know what to say when I moan." I gasp as I let him go and link my hands again behind his head holding on to his nape. His hands grip my hips, my legs over his elbows.

He looks at me—smoldering. And I feel him… He lines up against my entrance. And he breathes. I breathe along with him. "Tell me." I almost plead.

"It's Link."

He plunges into me deliriously slow and I bite my lip but keep his eyes locked with mine. He holds my gaze and when he's buried to the hilt—I feel… good. And full.

"Link…" I whisper.

"Zelda." He whispers back.

I do not ask how he knows.

"I can't…" He blurts out thickly. I know exactly what he's talking about. I need him to move. I need him to fuck me. "Hold on." He says as he pulls out—just until only the tip and thrusts hard into me again. The force of it was delicious—the sound of skin slapping against skin and I can't help but whimper. It hurt so good.

"Link…" I breathed out. I clasp my fingers tighter around his neck as he grips my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. And I hold on for dear life.

He moves. And boy does he move. He thrusts into me relentlessly, hard—like he can't get enough of me. He's so warm and so hot and I am breathless. He is gasping as he holds me close against him and I don't give a fuck. My breasts were squished against his chest and I sink my teeth into his shoulder which only fuels him more. With a loud groan, he fucks me harder—faster and I'm keening and I'm at the edge and it feels so fucking good why have I not had this kind of sex before?!

My name comes out of his mouth in tumbles and I don't care because I'm incoherent too. The sensations I am feeling are foreign, dizzying and maddening as he slams into me again and again. His thrusts were deep—deep and immediate and I feel my hands slipping. "Link," I gasp.

But he wraps one hand around my waist and with a grunt—never breaking his pace—he lifts me up and pushes me against the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist tightly, my arms around his shoulders as he thrusts upwards. And for a moment he grinds into me and I let out a long whimper as I kiss him and bite his lower lip. "Oh, fuck…" I exhale as he does this. And he smirks and thrusts into me again.

Every thrust had me crying out and I'm coming apart at the seams. I bit him on the shoulder again and he groans my name. I feel the same pool of heat in my lower belly just like before and fuck—yes—I know I'm almost there. I just came minutes ago and now I'm ready and I want more.

It comes, and I know he feels it as I gasp his name out lout and cling on to him. He doesn't pull out and instead thrusts into me slowly—riding it out. He presses his forehead against mine as he does this—locking eyes with me and I barely keep them open as I pant.

He holds me close again—still inside me—and puts me back down on the counter. "I want to see all of you." With his hips flush against mine, he pulls my dress up above my head, and he kicks his boxers down to the floor.

He picks me up again, never breaking contact as he pushes open a door and he sets me down on a bed. He gets pulled out accidentally and I whimper at the absence of him. But he is quick to follow and back inside me again. "Don't go." He whispers, his breath hot against my ear.

And he resumes his thrusting. The bed was certainly more comfortable, but it doesn't diminish the strength of his thrusts. He's driving into me so hard my breasts bounced with every contact and he doesn't fail to notice this and takes one into his mouth.

I writhe automatically. My nipples are very sensitive, and his tongue was doing wonders. I clutch at the sheets under me as I cry out his name—"Link!" But he's merciless and then I feel his fingers against my clit and I am once again rendered speechless.

"Again." He straightens up, towering over me as he thrusts into me repeatedly—his thumb coaxing me into another climax. My legs are getting exhausted and I am too—but I nod and grit my teeth as he nods at me. "Again."

And for the third time that night—I do. And fuck it was glorious and I thrash against the sheets as it rips through my whole body and I clamp down around his member. Mine fed his as he grabbed my thighs and pounded into me fiercely and I knew he was almost there as he gasped and groaned my name. A few quick thrusts and he presses into me hard and I feel him shudder—my name on his lips.

I felt tingly all over, but my legs went slack against his arms and he lowered them down on the bed. He pulled out and I couldn't help but whimper at the—loss. His forehead drops against my shoulder and we both catch our breath.

"Link…" I say his name. It suited him.

"Zelda." He whispers back. With a sharp intake of breath, he straightens up and grabs a tissue from a drawer from the bedside table. He cleans himself up in front of me and I watch him. He knows I am watching—he smiles at me softly when he sees me looking. He throws the soiled one to the floor and he grabs another—he starts to clean me up.

Done, he pulled back the covers of the bed and I slip under them. He follows soon closely behind me, and he gathers me in his arms, his nose almost touching mine.

"Too rough?" He asks.

"No." I whisper. My lips were bruised and plump but this time he kisses me slowly—our lips brushing against each other. "Link…" I say it again.

"Hmm?"

"Link…"

"Yes?"

"Link."

"Do you like my name that much?" He asks—a slow sexy smile appears, and I melt in his arms.

"Maybe." I say. I feel the tug of exhaustion and I can barely keep my eyes open.

"You look exhausted." He says, brushing his lips against my eyelids.

I sigh, and he pulls me closer—flushed against his chest. "I want more." I hear myself say. And it's true. I really do want more.

He laughs—a low rumble on his throat—and he kisses me again. "Maybe when you're awake to enjoy it."

I nod sleepily as he tucks me under his chin. I can feel his heartbeat—it was slowing down.

I cannot believe where I am. I got drunk in a bar and went home to another man's house and he proceeded to fuck my brains out and I loved every second of it. I feel his hand stroking my hair and I smile against his skin. "You remembered…"

"I remember everything." He says.

And the last thing on my mind before his heartbeat lulled me to sleep, was that everything is perfect, and I don't want this moment to end.

First chapter done. Tell me what you think. -Mackenziiee