Mountain High
Mountain High
Zayn/Niall | R | 1623 words
A/N: For this prompt: “girl!niall going down on girl!zayn that's it that's the prompt”. Exactly what it says on the tin. Both Zayn and Niall are cis!girls. Title from Sweet Life by Frank Ocean. [AO3]
“Somebody’s pushy,” Zayn grins down at Niall, and it’s not really fair that she looks so smug this early in the evening, but to be fair, it’s a given that she’ll get what she wants. Not that she’d say it- the whole thing relies on the fact that Niall thinks it’s all her idea, and Zayn is okay with that. As long as Niall uses her mouth for things other than arguing over who’s in charge.
Niall just mock-glares at her, pushes her thigh up higher, challengingly. “Somebody’s chatty.”
“You like it when I talk,” Zayn frowns, but decides against making a rude gesture at Niall. It’s not that Niall’s this impossibly volatile creature that will pull away and leave Zayn spread out on the bed with a sad pout on her face. At least Zayn doesn’t think so.
“Quit thinking so loudly up there,” Niall scolds, and Zayn huffs.
“Gimme somethin’ else to think about, then, yeah?”
Niall rolls her eyes and pushes some unruly bits of hair out of her face, tucks them behind her ear and leans in, fingers going tight on Zayn’s thighs as she presses her face into the soft skin between thigh and stomach. “Like y’need help thinkin’ about my tongue on your cunt.”
Cursing under her breath, Zayn shifts her hips minutely, trying not to push Niall away but still push up into the touch, her warm lips. Her voice is already breathy and well on its way to wrecked, but she still encourages Niall, “Yeah?”
For a moment she’s afraid that Niall will tease her- that tonight will be one of the none-too-few occasions she drags this out until Zayn has to truly beg, but Niall glances up at her and must see her impatience. She grins, the warm, silly, laughing grin that comes out when they get Liam to curse or Louis and Harry do something really ridiculous before remembering they’re on camera. “’re already thinkin’ ‘bout it, aren’t you, Zayn?”
Zayn nods quickly, swiping her tongue across her lips, trying to swallow past her dry mouth. “Think about it a lot, Nialler, y’don’t- like, a whole lot,” she tries to explain, to push the words out even as Niall noses closer, so close to giving Zayn exactly what she wants.
Niall hums, agreeably, and then suddenly sits up- Zayn whines at the rewind of progress, but Niall just pulls her shirt over her head and looks amused, tosses it over the side of the bed and settles between Zayn’s legs on her stomach, and, oh. Zayn wiggles impatiently.
Niall doesn’t draw it out, spreads her palms on the insides of Zayn’s thighs and presses them up, holds her open and just looks at her for a moment. Zayn is immediately and acutely aware of how wet her panties feel, and when she chances a look at Niall, the little smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, the way she licks her lips, gives away that she’s noticed, too.
“Hey, Zayn,” Niall says, keeps her eyes trained on the wet spot, unashamed. “Y’don’t mind keeping these on, do you?”
“Nope,” Zayn groans, shakes her head for emphasis and grips a fistful of the sheets at her side. Absolutely not, no, she doesn’t mind the sight of Niall peeling her soaked panties aside.
Licking her lips again, (does she ever stop? Zayn wonders, sometimes) Niall pushes a thumb under the inside of one seam, peels it back to settle in the crease of Zayn’s other leg. She’s not particularly careful about it, doesn’t seem to think about the drag of the fabric against Zayn’s clit- which, “Shit, Niall,” Zayn spits, accusing, and Niall just laughs, “What?”
“Just- please just go, Niall,” Zayn sighs, and her eyes widen when she realizes Niall might take that completely wrong- “Like, get on with it, don’t- if you left I’d cry, I think.”
Niall’s laughter dies out, but leaves a familiar warm smile in its place, and she bends her head, kisses at the waistband of Zayn’s panties, snaps them with her teeth. “I wouldn’ leave you like this, Zaynie, all wet an’- fuckin’... edible, really.”
It occurs to Zayn that maybe if she stops talking Niall will stop, too, and get her mouth on Zayn instead. She settles for a low, mewling whine, wriggling her hips. That ought to draw Niall in.
And it does, Niall’s eyes dragging a heated line from Zayn’s face down her body, and then she’s propping up on her elbows and huffing tiny warm breaths out over Zayn’s clit. She doesn’t say anything, but she does look up at Zayn every few seconds, holds her eyes when she sticks out her tongue, ducks down to lick a broad stripe up between her legs.
“Fuck,” Zayn says, broken, half-whimpered. Niall doesn’t stop, which is what makes it so much better, like once she’s gotten a taste of Zayn she can’t pull away- she swirls the very tip of her tongue around Zayn’s clit, lips brushing Zayn’s folds with just how close she is, breathing over Zayn, taking her apart quickly.
Zayn always thinks it, a little hysterical and distracted, but it’s not just that Niall’s so good at this, it’s that she obviously likes it, too- she’s asked for it, before, offered it, and sometimes she demands it, bossy and obnoxious, kissing Zayn with too much teeth and not enough patience. Tonight, though, she’s just giving, almost with a tenderness about it, how delicately she flicks the tip of her tongue against Zayn’s clit until it throbs, how her lashes look so long, from this angle, and the way she looks up, demure, at Zayn, and bobs her head, tongue laving over her entrance, hot and wet. Zayn’s thighs come up, bracketing Niall’s head, and she doesn’t complain, just wraps her arms under Zayn’s legs, around, until she can hold on, prop herself up on Zayn as she slowly, slowly begins eating her out in earnest.
“It’s like you were made for this,” Zayn says, too quick and jumbled, and really hopes Niall will see if for the compliment it is.
By the feel and sound of it she does- she’s humming as she fucks Zayn with her tongue, which almost makes Zayn’s hip buck, but she can’t, not with the way Niall’s holding her legs. All she can do is twist her fingers tighter around the sheets, moan like she knows Niall wants her to.
Niall’s fingers unclench and then curl again against Zayn’s thighs at the noises she’s making now, and she shifts against the mattress, obviously not unaffected herself. But she doesn’t move, doesn’t pull back and isn’t distracted from how she’s gradually fucking Zayn deeper with her tongue. First it’s shallow little licks, just swipes of her tongue into the wetness of Zayn’s cunt, but the louder Zayn gets, the further she presses, until her face is buried between Zayn’s legs, her mouth open, jaw dropped, to get her tongue in as far as she can.
“So fucking good,” Zayn pants, and before she can think about it, “Nialler, please, my- please touch my clit, yeah, I wanna come so bad,” words stumbling out. She feels herself getting closer with each slide of Niall’s tongue, but she knows Niall wants her to come across her tongue, and this is how she’s gonna get it.
Niall pulls away briefly, nods but doesn’t look up, as if she’s too preoccupied- she shifts to tip Zayn’s hips up towards her, a better angle and one that lets her right hand curl at Zayn’s clit. She licks two fingers messily and presses them hard against Zayn, lapping up her own spit and the rest of the mess she’s made, licking her own lips and wiping her chin on Zayn’s thigh before leaning back down to lick between her fingers at Zayn’s clit. Zayn could swear she knows what she’s doing- that this is a test, to see if Zayn will ask or just wait.
“Niall,” she whines, really hopes her exasperation is clear, but she has just enough dignity to not beg for it right away. And this is when it’s clear that Niall’s in control, after all; when, as much as Zayn might be the one sighing and agreeing to let Niall go down on her, Niall’s acutely aware of the power she has over Zayn, of the way Zayn’s a mess and it’s all entirely Niall’s doing.
Still, Niall isn’t willing to abuse that power. Zayn looks too pretty like this, flushed and desperate, to keep waiting, and Niall wants to hear her, in the way that only doing what she wants will bring out. She leans back in, sucks at Zayn’s clit once, twice, and slides her mouth down, pushing her tongue in hard and fast, in time to the circles she’s rubbing against Zayn’s clit with her fingertips. She can feel Zayn’s thighs tensing around her shoulders, reaches up to splay her free hand at Zayn’s lower stomach and smiles at the trembling of her muscles. Niall likes knowing that she’s good at things, likes being complimented on her accomplishments, and sex isn’t an exception. She’s proud that she can draw these reactions out of Zayn. Proud that Zayn lets her.
Zayn can’t think, can only focus on the heat bubbling in her belly and the way she’s drawn so close, so fast, by Niall’s clever tongue and fingers. Her orgasm surprises her, but not Niall’s reaction to it- she can feel herself tightening around Niall’s tongue, the hot waves of pleasure as Niall keeps rubbing her clit even when it feels like too much, and Niall just holds on, keeps her tongue deep inside Zayn, savoring every twitch.