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Zayn hated the walk-in shift, because people would stumble in without a care in the world, most likely inebriated, wanting tattoos that they would no doubt end up regretting. He hated making art for profit, drawing things up like butterflies and unicorn to the giggling girls that walked in, admiring his face more than his work. It was an aesthetic culture he despised but he was forced to abide by it if he wanted to keep his chair in one the most renowned tattoo shops of the industry.
It wasn’t all that bad, sometimes people walked in on a whim, wanting something different and edgy, something that pushed his artistic limits and he craved that feeling. He loved putting his name on original pieces, things he knew no one could ever reproduce. It was the thought of creating something that was unique in the world, something simply Zayn Malik that would always be his even though he would most likely never see it again.
For those special drawings, those rare occasions, the walk-in shifts were worth it. Yet tonight was an unusually boring night. Chris, the head tattoo artist, had left over an hour ago after completing a rather rad dragon back piece, leaving Zayn alone until closing time for the wandering customers.
Leaning back into his chair, feet propped up on the counter, Zayn closed his eyes, waiting for the final 30 minutes to tick by so he could finally go home. He knew Louis was probably already there, high out of his mind since his parents had once again left town for the weekend. This time of year they tended to skip out every other week, flying down to the US for business, but mostly as an excuse to get away from Louis and him.
Zayn sighed, rubbing at his eyes as his stomach growled, his burger and fries already a good ten hours away. Usually Niall stopped by with some food, sunshine smile hidden behind black coffee that always had Zayn all but crawling in his lap as he murmured sleepy thank yous. But Niall was out of town too, back to Ireland for a few weeks to visit family.
It was weird not having him around, a little more sad and quiet but Harry tended to balance out that gloominess, throwing bananas at Zayn’s face to wake him up in the morning or petting his hair in the afternoon when he was still hung over but had to wake up for work.
The chiming bell above the door shook Zayn out of his semi slumber, forcing his feet off the counter he stretched, eyes falling on a young man as he walked through the door. There was a familiarity to his features, something Zayn couldn’t quite place as he observe the man walk towards him, a shy smile etched upon his features that didn’t quite fit with the small mohawk at the top of his head. In fact that man seemed a bit like a walking contradiction, plush lips and rounded cheeks opposite to the black Addidas hoodie and the brown working boots.
Pushing himself to his feet, Zayn leaned against the counter, smiling at the man as he reached out to shake his hand.
“Hey mate, I’m Zayn, What can I do for you?” he asked, a little shaken by the heat that pooled in his stomach when their hands met, lust taking over his mind as he couldn’t help but notice just how attractive the other man was.
The more he looked at the man, watched him cast his eyes down, and smile from under longer lashes, Zayn was all but certain he knew those chocolate brown eyes, memories of a timid boy with brown curls begging to be fucked flashing through his mind.
“Liam?” he questioned before the man could answer, watching as the light brown eyes widen in surprise.
“Didn’t expect you to remember me,” mumbled Liam, curling a piece of paper in his hands, shoulders hunching forth.
It was obvious that the boy had grown, now taller than Zayn, his shirt stretching tightly over his chest now packed with muscled. He barely looked like the same person, gone were the curls that had attracted Zayn so much. He could still feel the softness between his fingers if he closed his eyes and thought about it.
The boy had been replaced with a sculpted man, yet those eyes still burned with the same light when they fell upon Zayn. And even though Liam now looked fiercely strong, his voice and timid demeanor still showed through.
“Would be hard to forget,” Zayn finally said, deciding to be honest. He loved the way Liam immediately blushed, bowing his head with a shy smile as he sighed, a small delicate yeah tumbling from his lips.
Truth was, Zayn hadn’t forgotten anything about Liam, or rather about the curly Liam. He remembered all the details, the birthmark at the base of his throat and the way his toes curled when he came. The way his body moved, the way his breathe felt against his skin, but also the exact pattern of his fingertips that had been etched into Zayn’s skin for days.
Their eyes met for a moment, exchanging heated memories of their previous encounter before they both looked away. It took all the self-control Zayn had not to reach out, run his fingers across Liam’s now stubbled jaw, a little awed at how much the boy had changed.
“So you’re here to redeem your free ink,” Zayn asked, trying to distract himself. If he kept staring at Liam, this was bound to end in a not so professional way.
Nodding, Liam unfolded the crumpled paper he had been curling in his hand, palm pressing it flat to the counter trying to flatten it out. “Finally found something meaningful enough to keep forever.”
Zayn leaned over the counter as Liam pushed the sheet towards him, taking it in hand. It was a shaky drawing of four chevrons stacked one over the other, done with a black sharpie that was running out of ink that had Zayn cringing. It was simple, not exactly a design that had his fingers itching but he smiled, grabbing a piece of paper, ruler and pen from under the counter.
He set himself to work, rearranging the drawing on his own sheet, aligning all the chevrons perfectly as he spaced them apart to the closes millimetre. He could feel Liam’s eyes on him, lingering on the tattoo at the back of his neck, bringing shivers through his spin.
He forced out the thought, concentrating on the art before him. Even if it was simple, it would still be a Zayn Malik design and he refused to put his name on something sloppy and most importantly, crocked.
After sketching one of the lines over five times, erasing the result and starting over, Zayn finally brushed off the left over bits of eraser, grinning proudly at his work as he turned it towards Liam.
“I can fill it in to show you if you prefer, but I usually just do that right on your skin,” explained Zayn, fingers twitching as he realized he was going to actually have to touch Liam. He was craving a cigarette instantly, observing Liam as his fingers traced the thick lines of every chevron.
“Its fine,” whispered Liam, a little too quiet and a little too pained for Zayn’s liking.
In this industry however, he had learned never to ask questions. People got tattoos for all kinds of reason, some more personal than others. If Liam wanted to share his reasoning, he would in time. The needle often worked as a confidant, with every strike releasing some of the stories it was marking forever.
“Where’s it gonna be?” Zayn asked, busying himself with setting up his station. He laid out the protective sanitary paper, catching sight of Liam who pointed to the back of his forearm before sitting down where indicated.
“Don’t be nervous,” Zayn said, realizing how the boy was shaking. “I’ll give you a lollipop at the end.”
Liam’s head snapped up immediately, a dark lure to his eyes as he smiled, a new rising tension settling between them. It had been meant as a joke, a little thought out comment to offer comfort but obviously it had stirred some mixed emotions.
“Let me just l-lock up front,” stuttered Zayn, hating how his own voice now caught as he walked
away from Liam. It was ridiculous how his attitude toward he boy had changed. He remembered when they had met, how cocky he’d been towards Liam, oh so certain of himself. Now, he was a stuttering mess, stomach pooling with desire and shivers spreading through his body. He needed to get his focus back, to get his racing pulse to calm if he wanted to be able to tattoo anything that was remotely up to his own standards.
Turning the deadbolt and shutting off the open sign, Zayn turned back towards his station, faltering slightly when he saw that Liam had stood once more, pulling at his hoodie to remove it.
Zayn couldn’t stop himself from staring, Liam’s body so much bigger, wider and stronger than he remembered. It was hard to believe that this Liam, with his mohawk and muscles, was the same boy he had slept with months ago.
“I’ll just put the stencil on you before you sit,” Zayn said as he swallowed the lump in his throat, passing his sketch through the stencil machine as he desperately tried to ignore Liam who was now shirtless, and peering over his shoulder.
His body was radiating an uncomfortable heat, almost dragging Zayn’s own towards him. He coughed, trying to diffuse the moment but the hand that Liam passed over his hip to reach for a Spiderman theme pen only added to it.
“This place is so cool.”
“It’s just a tattoo shop,” shrugged Zayn as he faced Liam, trying very hard not to stare at the man’s chest, not to think about what it would taste like, feel like against his own.
The awe in Liam’s face was darkened by an immediate shadow, gone the awestruck boy, replaced by an all but emotionless façade. Zayn felt the guilt rise in his throat as Liam offered him his arm, the stencil fitting perfectly onto the tan skin.
It was strange the way in which he reacted to Liam, knew they were so similar yet so different. The timid boy that loved comics appealed to him, reminded him of an earlier version of himself. But it was obvious that Liam was uncomfortable with that innocence, having apparently learned to hide quite well under new clothes and heavy scowls.
The brush of skin when he applied the stencil to Liam’s forearm was almost scolding hot, taking all Zayn’s concentration not to flinch away. The more he rubbed the ink into the man’s skin, the heavier the pool of desire in his stomach grew. Their eyes met, Zayn’s hand slowly ghosting over the chevrons one last time before pulling the stencil off, rapidly turning his back on Liam.
“What d’you think?” he asked, pointing towards a mirror that hung off the back wall. He went to work, sitting down as he assembled his tattoo gun, making sure the needle was on point, putting the black ink into the little plastic cup but the utter presence of Liam near him never disappeared.
“Its perfect,” Liam answered, not even looking in the mirror, his fingers brushing along the ridges of every chevron before he smiled at Zayn, taking a seat in the adjacent chair.
Pulling his gloves on, Zayn tried to return the grin, smiling more to himself than Liam because the heat in the other man’s gaze had his stomach doing flips. It wasn’t time to think of the filthy moan’s Liam had gasped out against Zayn’s mouth the last time, it wasn’t time to lose control over his own body.
Coughing once again, Zayn reached out for Liam’s arm, placing it on the plump layout chair in between them as he needed.
“This might sting a little,” he said, focusing on his usual speech. “Try to breathe deeply and just
tell me if it gets too much, we can stop until you feel better”. “Can’t be that bad,” Zayn heard Liam reply.
Zayn shrugged in response, hand curled around Liam’s wrist to steady him as he started the gun, the familiar buzzing sound filling the air.
“Its different for everyone,” he explained, already too enthralled by the way the needle spun across Liam’s golden skin, penetrating quickly to deposit more and more of the black ink as he moved smoothly, the first line of the bottom chevron growing in no time.
In seconds, Zayn lost himself in the sound of the tattoo gun, the ink staining his gloves and Liam’s skin as he moved across the man’s forearm, adding more black ink in every pore. This was an addictive feeling, something he’d grown needy of years ago when he had bought his first gun and tried it out on himself.
He smiled as he finished off the first chevron, rubbing some of the residual ink away to make sure it was properly filled in before moving on to the next, barely noticing how Liam’s fingers kept twitching inches away from his arm. He did hear however, the other man’s continuous breathing that echoed every time the needle stopped. It made his head swim when mixed with his tactile memory, his gut stirred as he finished the second chevron.
Forcing his gaze up, he licked his lips, suddenly nervous under Liam’s heavy gaze.
“You doing alright?” he managed to ask, pulling Liam’s arm closer to himself to start working on the third arrowhead.
“Great,” whispered Liam, a softness to his voice that had Zayn’s throat constricting. If he closed his eyes he could picture the boy with the curly hair, pressing shaking fingers into the material of a Captain America shirt.
As he started the final chevron, the thick outline being easily filled in, Zayn could feel his body starting to hum with the usual high he got from tattooing. It was better than any buzz he got from drinking or smoking up with Louis. It was the perfect feeling, being a little weightless, a happiness that he craved flowing through his body as he ran the needle in a circular motion, filling in the last of the tattoo.
“There you go babe,” Zayn said, the pet name falling off his lips easily as he leaned away to admire the flash of the tan skin now permanently etched with the black ink. The contrast was fierce, adding to Liam’s new found ruggedness. Taking a clean cloth, Zayn rubbed at the excess ink, revealing the sharp lines with more definition at they were outlined with red, raw from the needle work.
“You like it?” Zayn questioned when Liam stayed quiet, arm bent at an awkward angle as he admired the new work of art on his skin.
“Its perfect,” whispered Liam, looking up at Zayn with a watery smile.
And immediately Zayn had the need to hug the boy before him, seeing the vulnerable shyness in his eyes again, smile wavering with uncertainty as his fingers skimmed the lines of every arrow head.
There was something different about Liam now, so utterly broken that it had Zayn flinching as he stripped his gloves, tossing the needle in the hazard bin. He quickly wrapped up Liam’s arm, protective plastic cover held on by some tape shielding the tattoo from the world. He then explained quickly how to take care of it, the lotion he needed to put on it, to avoid sun and pools for at least a month, two if possible, before he pushed away from Liam, cleaning up his gun.
The air around him shifted quickly however, a warm hand coming to press at his hip, Liam’s strong body suddenly pressed along the curve of his back.
“You promised me a sucker,” Liam said, voice suddenly low and raspy as it fanned over Zayn’s neck causing a shiver to run down his spin.
“Liam?” Zayn said, air catching in his throat as he managed to turn around, immediately being pushed up against the counter behind him, trapped in between the cool marble and Liam’s blazing body.
“Don’t play coy, babe” Liam said, a mock tone to his voice as he leaned in, lips mere inches from Zayn’s own as their bodies folded into one another. They fit so perfectly, still now when Liam had grown more than a foot and doubled in size. But now it was Zayn that was smaller, fit into the length of Liam’s arms as if he was meant to be.
And before Zayn could come up with anything smart to say, Liam sunk to his knees, eyes wide and a little red rimmed as he pulled at Zayn’s belt, unzipping his pants to pull out his already hardening length.
“Fuck, Liam,” moaned Zayn, unable to do anything else as Liam started to mouth at his dick, teasing flicks of his tongue over the head before taking it into his mouth.
The touch was so hot, Zayn’s hips bucking forward, asking for more as Liam laughed a little, looking up at Zayn with his pupils shot black with desire.
“Wanted to do this from the minute you asked me to dance,” Liam admitted, a little uncertainty in his eyes that was gone the minute he blinked, bringing Zayn’s now hard dick to his lips, the head cushioned against Liam’s plump bottom lip.
Muttering another muted fuck, Zayn gasped as Liam’s mouth enveloped him, hitting the back of the man’s throat immediately before suction was applied, tightening around him, making his vision swim with pleasure.
“You’re so fucking good,” groaned Zayn, adding a hand to the back of Liam’s neck, edging him forth just a little to meet every desperate thrust of his hip. It was sloppy, a little too hungry and his back was pressed uncomfortably into the marble counter but Zayn wouldn’t have changed a thing about it. Looking down at Liam, his swollen lips drawn tight around his length, eyes stained with tears was just the perfect way to end the night.
Liam pulled away, leaning into Zayn’s touch as he caught his breath, forehead pressed against Zayn’s jean clad thigh.
“Want you to fuck me again,” Liam mumbled, throat raw from deep throating but his eyes were wide with anticipation, almost begging.
Zayn’s vocabulary seemed to be reduced to a weird conjugation of the word fuck, aligned in different orders but casually meaning the same thing. He nodded, finger underneath Liam’s chin to pull him up, their lips meeting in a clash of mouths that was desperately hungry.
He clawed at Liam’s back, gasping in surprise when he was lifted off the floor, legs automatically curling around the other man’s waist. He hated that Liam could now manhandle him so easily, his mind cursing the boy and yet he was so turned on, grinding into the other man as if he hadn’t gotten off in weeks, before pushing at his chest, dropping back down to his feet.
Liam looked down at him as their lips parted, a cocky smiled etched into his features that had Zayn glaring, his jeans barely hanging off his hips, dick out as he guided the boy backwards until he was encompassed between Zayn and the tattoo chair.
“What happened to you?” he asked without thinking, a finger trailing over a scar that ran a few inches along the boy’s knuckles. He knew that the mark was new, remembering perfectly the feel of Liam’s hand the last time they had been in similar position.
Liam laughed, something a little mock full as he fisting his hand in the material of Zayn’s shirt, dragging him forth until their lips were mere centimeters away.
“I ask you to fuck me and you want to make conversation?” Liam questioned, pulling away slightly to arch a brow at Zayn’s actions, his own hands unzipping his pants before they dropped unceremoniously to the floor.
Zayn watched, completely enthralled as Liam smirked at him, jumping up so he was sitting on the edge of the tattoo seat, nothing but his boxers on, his erection straining against the bright red Calvin Kleins. Zayn’s mouth watered at the sight, wanting nothing more than to spend hours licking at the plain’s of Liam’s broad chest, his beautiful skin glistening with a thin coat of sweat.
“Do I have to ask again?” Liam teased, pushing his hand into his boxers to pump himself a few times before shuffling his hips, the material falling around his ankle, leaving him bare to Zayn’s view.
Biting his lip, Zayn approached Liam, allowing his fingers to skim over the boy’s knee that were propped up and spread wide, giving him the perfect view of his ass.
“You’re filthy babe,” Zayn slurred, drunk off the sight of Liam so willing and shameless. He stepped in between the boy’s legs, feeling Liam wrap himself around him immediately, arms draped around his necks as legs encircled his thighs.
“You think too much,” reprimanded Liam as he started pressing open mouth kisses to Zayn’s neck, his fingers pulling at his shirt until Zayn tore it off, tossing it to the floor before attaching his lips to Liam’s.
It was completely clumsy, Zayn pushing forth into Liam who almost toppled over, giggling into Zayn’s mouth as he clawed at his back.
“Don’t have lube,” Zayn suddenly blurted out, pulling away so he could look at Liam. The man’s face was now flushed, lips swollen as he forced Zayn’s mouth back to his. They kissed again, Liam leading this time, his fingers delving in Zayn’s hair before he kiss a trail up his jaw until his lips brushed at Zayn’s ear.
“Back pocket of my jeans, might have planned this,” said Liam, eyes bright with amusement as he looked at Zayn’s fake shocked grin.
Shuffling away, feeling Liam’s eyes follow him as he bent over, Zayn tried desperately hard not to think about the fact he was going to fuck someone at his job. He was so riled up, Liam’s touch sparking something inside him that he didn’t understand. He had spent months craving that feeling, chasing after it in other random strangers and always failed to retrieve it. But here he was now, walking back towards Liam, a packet of lube and a condom in hand as the boy winked at him, lying back down with his legs spread wide to accommodate Zayn.
It felt so natural, coating his fingers in lube before pressing them to Liam’s hole, watching the boy’s mouth go slack as he moaned from the first finger, hips rolling with the movement. Zayn
watched, a little mesmerized as he pumped his finger in and out of the other man, his dick stirring with need but he ignored it, adding a second finger into Liam.
The boy moaned shamelessly in response, pushing back into Zayn’s hand, his own hands tightly fisted at his side as his eyes them.
“Just fuck me,” Liam finally groaned when Zayn added a third finger, scissoring them with difficulty.
Shaking his head, Zayn slapped a hand down on Liam’s stomach, forcing him to stay down as he pushed his fingers in slower, allowing Liam to get accustomed to the size.
“You’re so fucking tight babe,” he moaned leaning in to attach his lips to Liam’s collarbone, biting down when he felt the boy tighten around his fingers. “It feels like you haven’t been fucked since the last time I was inside you.”
The words only seemed to spark Liam on, the moans he let out getting louder as he fisted Zayn’s hair, folding himself up so their mouths fell into another stupidly clumsy kiss, teeth and tongue falling against one another in all its heat rendezvous.
“Just shut up please,” gasped Liam, taking hold of Zayn’s wrist and pulling his fingers out whimpering at the lost but immediately allowing his hand to wrap around Zayn’s dick. He ripped the condom out of Zayn’s hand, tearing it open before rolling it down Zayn’s length, adding some lube before bringing it to his hole.
“Need you,” Liam whispered in his ear before lying back down, Zayn’s dick just catching at his rim. It was as if the boy was demanding Zayn to go worth, need it more than air itself as he panted, rolling his hips like an experienced whore.
Simply captivated, Zayn smirked down at Liam, running his fingers teasingly along the man’s inner thigh, leaving a trail of slick patterns along his skin, before wrapping his hands under his thighs, bringing the man’s ass to hang over the edge of the chair.
He pressed himself into the comfort of Liam’s leg, dick pushing at his tight hole before finally breaching through, Liam groaning from the intrusion but clawing at Zayn’s back, all but begging for more when it was barely just begun.
Allowing his hips to push forth, to delve deeper into Liam’s tight heat, Zayn soon got lost in the rhythm he set for himself, moaning in pleasure as he licked at the boy’s neck. Liam whined in response, hands running along Zayn’s body to settle on his ass, pushing him forward, encouraging his every thrust.
“Still a little eager slut,” Zayn teased, allowing his hand to stroke Liam a few times before taking hold of the man’s leg once more, every movement more forceful than the next. And Liam only whimpered in response, eyes shut tight as he clawed desperately at Zayn’s back, nonsense falling from his lips.
Leaning in to suck and bite at Liam’s neck, Zayn changed his hold on the other man’s legs, pushing them further apart, raised higher, changing the angle which had Liam whining; no doubt as his prostate was assaulted from Zayn’s every thrust.
Liam’s arm snapped out, knocking over half of Zayn’s station to the ground in a catastrophic mess, his hand coming back stained black from left over ink, but it didn’t slow their rhythm. Zayn was only spurred on, forcing himself deeper, moaning around the tight bud of Liam’s nipple as he licked at the other man’s chest, quickly becoming addicted to his taste.
Liam hand tightened on his neck, leaving marks all over his skin, ink that would be hard to clean off but it felt good, knowing he too would be branded by their time together, if even only temporarily.
Every thrust became a little frantic, Zayn’s feet barely on the ground, allowing him barely any power. Standing back up straight, wrapping his arm around Liam’s back to pull him up, Zayn resumed his movement, rocking slowly, allowing Liam to feel the drag of his dick inside him.
They stayed like that, rocking slowly together as they panted against each other’s lips, forehead pressed together, their skin a mess of sweat and ink.
“You’re a Zayn Malik piece of art now,” groaned Zayn as Liam gasped, biting down into his shoulder.
It took a second for Zayn to realize Liam was coming, a high pitch moan staining the air as thick fingers bruised patterns into his shoulder, the slow movement of Zayn’s dick inside Liam rocking the boy into convulsion.
Zayn watched, completely stunned and amazed as the man came untouched, painting his own taunt stomach with his seed. The sight had Zayn’s thrusting turned into an unsteady mess, hips faltering as he looked down into Liam’s eyes, their movements almost intimate as he rocked forth, pushing against Liam’s prostate who whined in response, overly sensitive.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Zayn groaned, pulling out almost completely before shoving himself back in, fingers coming to trace along Liam’s cum coated abs. He leaned forth, putting his weight on his forearm, still fully sheathed inside Liam, their lips mere inches apart as he brought his fingers up to the boy’s mouth, tapping his bottom lip.
Immediately Liam opened up, eyes shot wide from his orgasm, hands still fisted at his side as he sucked greedily at Zayn’s fingers, their gaze holding one another.
“Want you to come in my mouth,” finally whispered Liam as Zayn withdrew his fingers, the boy’s voice hoarse from all the moaning. Zayn wanted nothing more than to ruin him even further, to fuck his way down Liam’s throat until the boy was gagging, yet desperately sucking him off.
“Stand up,” Zayn said, a little unsteadily as he pulled out of Liam, ignoring the whimper that the boy let out as he tried to pull himself up.
Liam let out a little awkward laugh, his stomach tightening as he reached out for Zayn’s hand, pulling him towards the seat.
“I don’t think my legs work,” Liam admitted, a shy smile on his face. “Get up here.”
And Zayn did, because his dick was throbbing and at this point there was no shame to fucking in his workplace. There was no difference to fucking someone on his chair or straddling someone’s face and fucking into their throat really. It was all a big mess, his own skin stained with black ink, traces of Liam’s finger prints marking him all over. It was so desperately sexy, Liam so far gone from his orgasm yet still gagging for dick.
The image probably wouldn’t haunt Zayn every time he walked through the door he promised himself. Nope, not at all he thought as he settled, one leg on either side of Liam’s face before leaning forth, one hand on the wall as he was slightly afraid that they might topple over.
Yet Liam didn’t seem fazed what so ever, rolling the condom off Zayn’s and tossing it to the floor before stroking his length a few times, licking around the head.
“Stop being a tease,” Zayn forced out through gritted teeth, rising on his knees to push his cock further into Liam’s mouth who accepted it easily, both hands running up and down Zayn’s thighs in encouragement.
He was already so close, his mind swimming every time he felt the back of Liam’s throat open for him, taking him further as the man swallowed around his length greedily. Looking down at Liam almost brought him over the edge. Tear stain eyelashes casting shadows across Liam’s cheeks, lips so beautiful swollen as they wrapped themselves tightly around his dick, moving with every trust.
Threading his fingers through the small of Liam’s mohawk, Zayn allowed his hips to snap forward, pushing deeper into Liam’s mouth completely fucked over as his thighs started to shake, his arm cramping from the position.
And then Liam pushed a finger inside, completely unexpected and Zayn was coming, coating the back of Liam’s throat as he moaned out the boy’s name, hips rolling from the waves of his orgasm that crashed over him, dragging him down into the depths of a pleasurable ocean.
“Fuck Liam,” Zayn said as he pulled away, Liam’s finger slipping out of him as he settled back on his heels, watching Liam’s throat swallow around nothing.
Shuffling off the chair, his legs barely strong enough to support him, Zayn couldn’t help but smile down at Liam, chin covered in come as he looked up at the ceiling so happy, a huge grin on his face that made his eyes crinkle at the side.
“Don’t get smug on me,” laughed Zayn, kissing Liam’s slowly, lingering as he tasted himself on the other man’s tongue.
Pulling away, he admired the boy’s flushed features, his sculpted body sweat slicked and covered in come before leaning against the chair, grabbing a towel on the stand to wiping down Liam’s chest as the boy brought his fingers to his chin, eating up the last of Zayn’s orgasm.
Zayn couldn’t take his eyes away from the sight before him, Liam’s thick fingers disappearing between his lips, slurping sounds echoing between them as they both panted a little, still recovering from their high.
Forcing himself away, Zayn grabbed his jeans, pulling them on as he searched for his shirt.
“Do you want to go for coffee?”he heard Liam say from behind him, the boy’s voice now small, gone the cockiness that had been there mere seconds ago.
“You usually go for coffee before you let someone fuck you,” mocked Zayn, throwing Liam’s pants and shirt at him as he dragged his own shirt on, feeling all sweaty and gross. He craved a cigarette, needed the nicotine rage to calm him because the way Liam was looking at him now, all wide, innocent eyes pleading had his heart aching.
“Just don’t really want to go home yet,” Liam explained, now standing with his back to Zayn. He had wiped down his chest with his shirt before pulling on his jeans. The now come soiled t-shirt had been discarded in a nearby garbage as well as the condom that had been stuck to the floor. Liam was now zipping his hoodie over his bare cheat, walking towards Zayn with a towel to clean his neck from the black stains that still showed.
“Are you buying?” Zayn asked, leaning into the touch, all but purring as Liam rubbed tight circles into his neck with the pad of his thumb.
“I guess I owe you,” shrugged Liam, tossing the towel before wrapping an arm around Zayn’s waist, fitting him into the outline of his body. Zayn hated it, how easily his body complied, how
perfectly he fit, how submissive he felt. He hated it so bad, so bad that he loved everything about it.
He loved the smell of Liam, how his big hand curled around his hip, fingers diving under his shirt to skim at the waist line of his jeans. It was so simple, so dumb and innocent and yet it had him shivering with need, already ready to strip Liam once more and fuck him senseless until they both were sated.
“I’ll take the most expensive thing on the menu, with whip cream and chocolate sauce and all that,” said Zayn, an amused glimmer in his eyes as he allowed Liam’s fingers to trail along his jaw before they brushed over his lips.
“Take whatever you want babe,” laughed Liam, leaning in to kiss Zayn’s lips delicately, a slow burning kiss that rose with passion but stayed steady, breathless and promising. “I like you thirsty”.
Zayn snorted out a laugh, pushing at Liam’s broad shoulder as he rolled his eyes.
“You’re such a nerd,” he said mockingly, walking away to close off the lights inside the shop, grabbing his keys from the front desk before unlocking the door.
Liam followed suit, a smile etched into his face as if a permanent feature. “I’m Captain America,” he said a huge grin plastered to his face, “Wanna feel my shirt, see what it’s made of?”
Zayn glared at him, tongue stuck between his teeth as he let out a bark of laughter, pushing Liam out the door. “You loved that line babe, fell right for it”.
“You didn’t need a line,” Liam said, bowing his head as Zayn locked the door before pulling out a pack of smokes. He offered one to Liam who accepted, lightening both of them as they walked slowly side by side.
“You had me at you got a name babe,” joked Liam, rubbing his nose softly into Zayn’s neck who giggled, shoving him away.
He laughed, a fully felt laugh as he bumped his shoulder into Liam’s as he came back towards him, taking a long drag of his cigarette before inclining his head sideways. “There’s a Starbucks down the street.”
“After you,” Liam said, smiling around his own cigarette, the object looking foreign in the man’s fingers but Zayn said nothing, simply rocked on his feet and started walking towards the coffee shop again.
It should probably be awkward considering all they had basically done was dirty dance and fuck but it wasn’t. Quite the contrary, it felt perfectly normal, two long time friends hanging out on a chilly night as they stumbled down the poorly lit street, their shoulders rubbing one against the other.
Yet there was a tension in the air, that unsaid promise of more that had them both on edge and so when Liam’s hands reached out, strong fingers intertwining with Zayn’s free hand, he said nothing, simply squeezed Liam’s hand in response as they kept on walking, down to the coffee shop where he could possibly quench his thirst.