Ziam one shots

open your eyes, I'll keep mine closed

By: transgenicveins
Summary: Liam isn't quite certain what it is which makes him agree to this crazy, masochistic plan of Zayn's.'

alternatively: curriculum

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Liam isn't quite certain what it is which makes him agree to this crazy, masochistic plan of Zayn's. Of course, if he thinks it through, with the little circulating blood he has left (the rest has permanently rushed to his cock when Zayn had said 'teach me'), he can reason that maybe it was Zayn's voice- the way he sounds a few days after he's 'quit' smoking for the thirty-seventh time, all low and all soft and all for Liam. Or maybe it was the way his over gelled quiff flops after a night of dancing around the stage, so much so that he needs to push it off-and-to-the-side of his forehead as he whispers to Liam in the darkness. Or maybe it was that look in his eyes, the same one he gives Liam, the one where he positively lights up.

Or maybe it's the way that Liam is hopelessly and infuriatingly in love with Zayn, and he couldn't say 'no' when his every pore was screaming yes-yes-yes-yes.

That might be it.

///

Liam's different to the others in the sense that he's quite content with brooding. He doesn't need Zayn's attention or affection or affinity to function. He knows that the chances of Zayn being (a) gay or (b) attracted to him are infinitely small and he's content, really, with wrapping a brotherly arm around his shoulders and whispering in interviews and eating cereal over Friends. He's not like Harry, who needs the constant reassurance of physical contact; or Niall, who needs to make everyone smile; or Louis, who cannot stop staring.

Liam likes watching Zayn. He likes unravelling Zayn, knowing him better than anyone else, the enigma of Zayn Malik being more a revelation. He likes knowing that Zayn licks his lips when he's nervous and has this sleepy, crooked smile, all for Liam, and does a gentle role of his hips in time to particularly fantastic music.

He's so preoccupied with watching Zayn's lips move in thoroughly obscene ways as he bites into the strawberry (throaty hums of approval, teeth scraping the red skin, a drop of juice falling to his jaw, tongue practically caressing the side, holy fuck) that he barely acknowledges the warm body crawling into his lap until- "Gosh, Li, at least attempt to hide your erection."

Liam squirms and smothers his blush in the crook of Louis' neck. "I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbles, watching Zayn's throat clenches as he swallows and wondering how it would feel around his cock- stop. "I'm not hard."

"Sweetheart, you're aching," he teases, tangling his fingers in Liam's hair. It's shaggier than usual, growing out in the lull between tours, and all it had taken was a sleepy 'it looks hot like that' from Zayn to convince him to blacklist every hairdresser in London. "Besides, he's pretty fucking hot in that leather jacket. We don't-"

"We?" Liam repeats, and he really should stop staring, but the hints of Zayn's skin which are revealed when he rolls his shoulders are too addictive to ignore.

"Me and Niall," Louis says, and when Liam lets out a strangled groan, he adds, "he's the one who told me."

"Niall knows?"

Louis laughs, low and throaty, and Zayn shoots Liam a smile that does absolutely nothing for his nerves. "He figured it out at the Kid's Choice Awards. I knew before that, though."

"How!?" he whines, and Zayn is watching them with a newfound curiosity that makes Liam's heart hurt.

"You clearly don't Google yourself-"