Double Standards // ziam

Chapter 6

A party was in progress on one of the brightly lit yachts. They stood together on the beach, listening to the music and laughter, watching the shaft of moonlight streaming across the lake. "Dance with me," Liam said, and Zayn walked obediently into his arms, loving the feel of them sliding around him.

Laying his cheek against the smooth fabric of his black jacket, he moved with him in time to the orchestra's love song, vibrantly aware of his legs shifting intimately between his.

Since he'd gotten up that morning he'd been through a session with Mr. Weatherby, an interview with Harry Styles, lunch with Liam, a long drive and now this party where he had drunk more than he ever had before in his life. In one day he'd experienced tension, excitement, hope and passion, and now he was spending the weekend with the man of his dreams. The emotional merry-go-round he'd been on had taken its full toll; he felt exhausted and more than a little lightheaded.

His thoughts floated to the French movie star, and he laughed softly. "If I was in that woman's place playing tennis, I'd have left my skirt on, and taken my shoes off. And do you know why?"

"So that you could play better?" Liam murmured distractedly, nuzzling aside the silken hair of his fringe that fell over his forehead.

"Nope, I don't even know how to play tennis." Abruptly lifting his face to his, Zayn breezily confided, "The reason I'd keep the skirt on is because I'm modest. Or am I inhibited? Well, anyway, I'm one of the two." he laid his cheek against the solid muscles of his chest again. Liam chuckled against his hair, and his hand splayed low against his spine, pressing him closer to his body.

"Actually," he continued dreamily, "I'm not modest or inhibited. What I am is the confused product of a semi puritanical upbringing and a liberal education. Which means that I think it's wrong for me to do anything, but I think it's perfectly all right for other people to do whatever they want. Does that make sense?"

Liam ignored his question and asked one of his own instead. "Zayn, by any wild chance are you getting drunk?"

"I'm not certain."

"Don't," he commanded.

Although quietly spoken, it was an order, and he meant it to be obeyed. Intending to protest his authoritative attitude, Zayn snapped his head up, but his lips instantly captured his attention.

"Don't even consider it," he muttered harshly. Then his mouth opened over his in a shattering kiss that sent him spiraling off into darkness where nothing existed except the sensual male lips locked fiercely, demandingly, to his. His hand ruffled into the soft hair on his nape, and his tongue plunged into his mouth, stroking and caressing his, retreating to plunge again, until Zayn instinctively gave him what he wanted. His lips softened and began to move with his, stimulating the desire already flaming between them. Against him, Zayn felt the bold evidence of his rising passion, and shudders of pleasure raced through him as he got aroused as well. His kiss did crazy things to his body, demolishing his control. Mindlessly he arched himself upward in a fevered need to please him more, and Liam's arm tightened across his hips, hands going further back to cup his ass, pulling their crotches even closer...

He dragged his mouth roughly across his cheek, and even his whisper was hoarse with desire. "Baby, you don't kiss like any puritan," he said, and pressed his lips to his again.

Slowly the pressure of his mouth gentled and then was gone. Slightly trembling with excitement and fear, Zayn weakly leaned his forehead against his shoulder. He was sinking into this abyss of desire too fast, and too deeply, to get free. His next words confirmed it. "Let's go to the Cove."

"Liam, I..."

His hands slid up his arms to his shoulders then tightened, moving him an inch away. "Look at me," he said gently.