"Are you ever afraid that one day your morals," Niall hesitated on the word, still unsure of himself, "will slip?" he whispered from his position next to Zayn in the dark trees, their position as high as the birds that were flying next to their heads. They leaped from tree to tree in a zig-zag motion, dragging their hops lower and lower as they got closer to the ground.
"No." Zayn's voice was low and there was an edge to it that made Niall believe meant more than the conversation topic itself. "I tend to practice control in all forms." A smirk ghosted on his lips, a lazy smile that simulated just how much he wanted Niall to nip at the hints at the edge of his tone.
Zayn didn't let the conversation further more before he placed his hands on his shoulders, his fingers pressing in to the indentions of Niall's projected collarbones as his thumb rubbed in small, sensual circles. "Close your eyes, use your instincts and do what they say." He pressed his body to Niall's back, his winded breathing on Niall's hair, blowing it with the direction that he moved. His hands rode up Niall's body to cover his eyes, fire trailing behind him as he bit his lip. The crave of a wanted was as powerful as the love itself.
Niall took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out of his mouth, hoping the air would calm the burn in his throat. It didn't, it seemed, just made it turn in to a dull ache. Much like the aftershock of eating a jalapeño nipped at his vocal chords, going directly to his heart, which didn't pound. Didn't make a sound. It was new to him, everything, all of this. It was all new to him. Not being able to get the sweaty goosebumps of being near the man behind him, not having to take deep and stuttered breaths, not having skin so vulnerable a razor could break open the soft, flesh protecting cover of who he really on the inside. It felt new, being able to smell all that was around him, see the dirt that flew in the air's particles and texture from a mile away, literally. Smelling the musk of the wet trees and hearing the sound of butterflies wings flap around him. Wanting blood.
His eyes snapped open; his heart that no longer beated would have been galloping in his chest at the moment. And just like that moment, in that moment, he was off. Hopping up in the the sky, the wind whipped around him, his hair flowing in his face, whipping in his eyes. Niall felt no need to breath, his fingers twitching and flexing the same muscles that were against him earlier a few days ago. A few days ago, he would have hated himself. Protested the very happiness of his being. And that hadn't changed.
But it had dulled. He felt like a new person. As if he could do more than he would ever be able to do. With a large smirk, his eyes locked with the backside of his prey. A small deer. The nonmasochistic half of the blond haired being wanted to run away, to not be who he felt he should. But ignoring that half, he wanted it.
So he got it.
He pounced, the woosh in the air far away from his advanced ears. He had never felt as if clarity was the partner to darkness but as his teeth sunk in to the flesh of the animal before his white-gripped knuckles and would have been guilty conscience, he felt more at home in that moment then the first time he looked in to his mate's eyes.
He had me er believed in the bullshit of love at first sight. Which might be why he still was pissed (only partly, the other half was unadorned adoration) at Zayn. With a head full of hair, stubble on the brink of his chin and the jaw line of Jesus Christ's creation himself, he wasn't one to deny that Zayn was fucking hot. Fucking hot, and in a smaller part of his mind, fucking his. And... Fucking annoying, fucking had a large ego, and a whole 'nother string of fuckings after that. He didn't even k ow the kids last name and he was starting to feel a little bit too much like Bella.
Unlike her, though. He was afraid. Whether it was of him or of himself.
Fear-that was definitely a factor to his blood line. Fear was a cousin to loathing and loathing was the brother to hate. Hate was the epitome of destruction. But love was all that he had ever longed for. Besides Liam, he never had gotten any. In a moment of anger, he took it out in the now still dear's jugular, sucking from it like the assholes whom used to suck from him.
___
When I searched for you, screaming your name as if it was a life preserve and my thoughts on how to swim vanished even the deepest crevous of my brain, it came out as a laugh in syllables so half-assed it was my procrastination to get out of bed in the morning. And that's how I knew that even when you shout in your mind, it is the same volume as your whisper. Really. Try it. You can not force shallow voices to be oceans when they are shallow puddles, perspiration droplets from the tears even God has cried for you-honey, there has never been a drought where I live. Even the place by my bedside where tears overtook a smile is stained with your perfume and perched by our memories. I was a folded crain of a diary entry you had filled out for her. Her fingerprints are stained like it was a crime scene. You ran the police tape like a mile race you'd been almost finished with for a while and I was never in to competition. Do not take this moment from me.
Niall tended to write about things he had never experienced. It was always relationships and anger with this kid, only one he'd felt whole of.
He smelt him before he saw him. His body tensed as he sucked in a breath, then let it go. Why the hell was he breathing anyway? Did he even need it? Just two days ago he didn't even want it.
"What're you writing?" Silky smooth, like honey, or butter, or any other stupid comparison-anyways. He scowled, resisting his thoughts. The friendlyness from earlier had vanished, he felt a wave of sadness waft over himself. Like plans that fell through last minute. Or excitement that dims to regret.
Niall felt hands touch on his shoulders, thumb massaging ragged, warm to only a vampire's touch, skin. "Why are you saddened, mon amour?" A French accent tinged his tongue, and Niall's mind flew briefly to where his origins where. Where he came from; how long he had even been there, here, whatever it as called.
"I'm not." Clipped, short, to the point. And lying. Lying, too.
"I have a sense of smell." His body was in front of Niall's instantly, hands still on shoulders. His eyebrows were contorted, yet in why was unknown. "But it's okay. You don't have to tell me. But whatever you think, whatever you feel, know that I will fix you."
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Dangle. (Vampire!Zayn; Ziall AU)
Fanfiction"Funny how shit changes overnight." ___ All rights and references are reserved to the original author of such due to copyright by law but I will hint/draw from some of my favorite things with in the story itself.
