stops my bones from wondering.
One Direction. Louis/Zayn. 3045 words. Sort of explicit.
Not true, etc.
Thanks to Diana, Geena and tamzinrose for letting me bother them. All remaining typos and missing capitals are mine. Title from fun.'s "Some Nights."
It starts on a Tuesday.
Louis only remembers because it’s the day they drop down in New York. It’s like ninety degrees but it feels like two hundred, and management won’t let them perform naked, so Louis wears a pair of shorts and one of Harry’s lanky vests and drinks about a gallon of water.
All it does it make him have to piss every five minutes, though. When they finally go inside, he feels less like he’s going to pass out but more like his bladder is going to explode, which is not a very fair trade-off. They lock him down behind the signing table, and Louis tries to stop watching the clock. The fountain in the middle of the mall doesn’t help. The trickle of water makes him restless.
He doesn’t realize his knee is moving until Zayn’s hand is pressing down on it. “You’re making me nervous, stop,” Zayn says, briefly tucking his face close to Louis’.
Louis is signing something for a girl who looks half-hysterical, and he just nods, shifts his knee until Zayn gets the picture and lets his hand drop.
It comes back a few minutes later. This time Zayn grabs his thigh, the blunt edges of his fingers digging into skin. Louis reaches down with his free hand and hooks their fingers, squeezes Zayn’s hand in warning before he replaces it with his own. Normally Louis wouldn’t care, but he’s got a hyperawareness of his body that sets him on edge. He’s about five minutes from getting up, management be damned. There’s a limit to how long he can hold it in, and he passed it a good fifteen minutes ago.
He sees Zayn’s hand move out of the corner of his eye the third time and slaps it before it can reach him.
“Ow!” Zayn says, too loud. “What are you doing, Louis?”
Louis cuts his eyes at him but says, “You can’t just grope a feel, I’m not that kind of boy,” and he bites Zayn’s bare shoulder, hopes it’s enough of a distraction as he pushes his chair back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go recapture a bit of my dignity.”
They don’t want to let him go, but it’s not like they’re aren’t enough security to get him to the bathroom without getting stampeded. Louis takes the trip on Paul’s back and comes back like he’s a cowboy, throwing an invisible lasso around Harry. The crowd yells a little louder, and Harry turns around with a bemused smile.
“Do I want to know?”
“Wasn’t obscene, I promise,” Louis replies, tugging on Harry’s curls on the way back to his seat. There’s a bottleneck in traffic around his empty chair. “Hi!” he says to the girl closest to him. “How are you?”
It takes another twenty minutes before Zayn touches him again. Louis doesn’t realize he’s anticipating it until he feels Zayn’s hand on his thigh. He glances at Zayn, but he’s flirting with a girl in a Drake t-shirt and doesn’t notice Louis’ raised eyebrow. Louis waits until Zayn leans back in his chair to stretch before he pinches his wrist.
Zayn looks over and lifts his chin in confusion. He’s got one arm pulled behind his head; the other hasn’t moved.
Louis crowds closer, asks, “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” Zayn replies, squeezing above Louis’ knee, but a smirk flits across his face. Louis doesn’t trust that smirk. It’s the smirk that steals all of his pants and puts chili in his porridge.
Louis spends the rest of the signing waiting for the other shoes to drop.
*
It never does.
*
Zayn’s affectionate when he wants to be, but it’s different than the rest of the guys. Harry touches like he’s trying to memorize the feel of Louis’ skin beneath his fingertips, Niall like he just wants to make sure Louis’ still there. Liam’s fleeting and uncertain half of the time and rough the rest, depending how what mood he’s in and how hard Louis is trying to annoy him.
Zayn -- two weeks ago, Louis would have said Zayn was reactionary. He touched Louis when he had a reason to; otherwise, he seemed more than content to keep his hands (knees, elbows, feet, mouth) to himself.
Louis doesn’t know what it is, now. Sometimes, Zayn lures him into a false sense of familiarity and is as distant as he can be, but then he’ll put his arm around Louis’ waist when they’re walking or touch his hip when he leans in to hear something or tug at the hair near the nape of his neck when Louis is half-asleep.
Louis wants to say something, but he can’t figure out how to do it casually. So you’ve been really affectionate lately, yeah? Remember that time you had your fingertips under the band of my pants? Not that I don’t enjoy a little nuzzle every now and then, but--
Every situation Louis can think of ends in Zayn getting defensive and going back to normal. Louis doesn’t want that. He doesn't really know what he wants, but there’s something thrilling about the intentional warmth of Zayn’s hands against him. Louis can’t deny that it -- the splay of Zayn’s fingers against his spine, being close enough to smell his aftershave -- makes his mouth a little dry.
It doesn’t take long for someone to notice. Sometimes Louis forgets that Niall is kind of an observant little shit.
They’re sprawled on a couch, and Louis said something dumb, so now Zayn’s smothering his laughter against his shoulder. Louis just grins and threatens to flatten his hair.
When he looks over, Niall’s looking at him with his eyebrows raised. What, Louis mouths.
Zayn, Niall mouths back.
Louis just shrugs. He doesn’t know if Niall’s referring to the way Zayn’s acting or the way Zayn’s acting with him, but he doesn’t know what to say, either way, and Zayn has decided to get intimately acquainted with my body? seems a little complicated to lip read.
“How much caffeine have you had today, anyway?” Louis asks Zayn, because he suddenly feels weird about the lack of space between them.
“Don’t know,” Zayn says. “Not as much as you, arse.”
He rolls away when Louis pinches the fleshy strip of skin above his jeans, but he keeps their ankles crossed.
Louis can feel Niall’s judging gaze on them the rest of the day.
*
Zayn tells him on a Sunday.
They wake up in a Swedish hotel, and Louis cuddles in bed with Harry for a little bit before Harry ditches him to find food with Niall and Liam. He promises to bring back pancakes, but Louis does not trust him to bring them back in one piece.
He eventually crawls out of bed and into the shower. When he gets out, he has a text from Zayn: u awake?
yes want coffee???
Zayn just texts back, k.
Louis is a little surprised; Zayn usually spends the mornings brooding and sticking close to Liam, because he’s the only one who takes his existential crises seriously.
The room has a complicated-looking coffee machine that Louis possibly breaks. The coffee tastes okay, though, so he leaves it to make weird noises and hopes nothing explodes in his absence.
Zayn’s door is cracked open a little when Louis gets there. Louis elbows it open the rest of the way, says, “I almost died for you.”
“Did you?” Zayn sort of asks. He’s pulling a pair of sweatpants over his hips. He’s wearing plaid briefs.
“The coffee maker had a lot of buttons,” Louis says, not looking at Zayn’s arse. “You probably shouldn’t be half-naked when your door is open, by the way. It’ll end up on the internet somehow.”
Zayn just makes a face at him before he pulls on a shirt, too. He grabs his cigarettes out of yesterday’s jeans and goes out on the balcony, so Louis follows him. There’s a little table with two chairs and a vase of yellow flowers.
“Cozy,” Louis says, dropping down across from Zayn. He sets the coffee down as Zayn lights his cigarette.
“Thanks,” he murmurs out the side of his mouth.
“Sure.”
They sit in a comfortable silence. It’s a bit cold outside, but the coffee helps. Louis is halfway through his cup when he feels Zayn kick his foot. “You’re fit, you know?”
Louis is proud of himself for swallowing before he answers. “Yes?” he replies. “I agree.”
“I mean,” Zayn starts, flicking the cherry of his cigarette off and rubbing his eye. He opens his mouth again, twice, before he shakes his head, bring his coffee to his mouth. “Never mind.”
“You can’t leave me hanging after that,” Louis tells him. “I’m sexy and...?”
“You’re sexy, is all.” Zayn shrugs. “I just wanted to say it.”
“Because...?” Louis asks. His voice is even but he can feel his heart pounding. “Is this some kind of self-esteem intervention? Have you been worrying about me? Aww, Zayn--”
Zayn slaps his hand down when Louis reaches out to pinch his cheek. “Fuck off,” he mumbles. “Shit. Never mind.”
“Zayn,” Louis says, quieter, because he seems embarrassed now. Zayn doesn’t do embarrassed well. Zayn doesn’t do a lot of emotions well, honestly, but there are some Louis feels more equipped to deal with than others. “I’m flattered. You don’t compliment me nearly enough.”
“Like you need it,” Zayn says. He goes back to smoking, his shoulders tense, head turned away from Louis.
Louis finishes his coffee and alternates between watching Zayn and watching the traffic flow beneath them. Zayn lights another cigarette. Louis pushes his toes against Zayn’s instep, and when Zayn doesn’t move away, brushes against his ankle. “Stockholm’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Sure.”
“Weather’s a bit mild, but it’s no worse than England.”
“Suppose not.”
“The chicks are hot.”
Zayn just shrugs. “Hadn’t really noticed.”
“You’re such a liar,” Louis says, tucking both of his feet behind Zayn’s. “Even I noticed.”
“Been noticing you instead,” Zayn says, and it takes Louis a good handful of seconds to actually understand what comes out of his mouth. He still asks, “Sorry, what?” and Zayn pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth, says, “Shut up, you heard it.”
“Yeah, I.” Maybe it’s because it’s too early, or because Zayn’s embarrassed enough already, but Louis doesn’t jump out of his seat and point accusingly like he wants to. “You’ve been flirting with me. I knew you were up to something.”
Zayn rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t exactly subtle about it.”
“You don’t do subtle,” Louis agrees. Zayn’s got two modes: either he wants or he doesn’t. And when he does, he -- practically crawls inside Louis’ skin, apparently. “You should have seduced me with a Chris Brown song or something. Groping can be very ambiguous.”
“I’m not Harry,” Zayn says.
“Fair enough,” Louis says. He looks down at his empty mug and wishes he had something to distract him, slow the conversation down. “I didn’t know you were--” He gestures vaguely.
“I’m not,” Zayn says, gesturing back. “I’m just curious.”
“Ah,” Louis says. he wonders if Zayn would let him back in if he escaped to get more coffee. Probably not. “Harry’s queer too, you know.”
“I know,” Zayn says, looking a little miserable as he runs his hand over his hair. “I’m not curious about Harry, though.”
“Oh.” There isn’t a single word in the English language that Louis can recall for a few moments. He clears his throat. His mouth is suddenly dry. “That’s really flattering, actually--”
“But,” Zayn interjects.
“No buts,” Louis says and very consciously does not allow himself a snicker. “Can we come back to this later? I’m going to need a few more cups of coffee and a wank before I can make any rational decisions.”
Zayn just nods, but he ducks his head and smiles when Louis throws a flower at him.
*
Louis makes a pros and cons list of sleeping with Zayn while they’re waiting at the airport. Zayn is napping in a seat next to Niall, so Louis gets to stare at him as long as he wants and not get flipped off for it.
The cons list says: Will still want to bang him later? Liam will kill me. It could get awkward. Premature ejaculation.
The pros list says: Harry will be jealous. It’ll get awkward anyway. Zayn.
It’s not really a complicated decision, when he looks at it that way.
*
The thing people forget -- the thing Louis forgets -- is that for as hot as Zayn knows he is, he’s also awkward. They spend the day speaking in half-sentences and exchanging brief glances because Zayn gives Louis distance and Louis figures it won’t be well received if he says I really want you to fuck me when there are twelve people within hearing distance.
He doesn’t even know if Zayn wants to fuck him. Maybe he just missed out on a mutual wank when he was younger and wants to make up for it.
Louis lasts another twelve hours and a rather weird but erotic dream before he just caves in and texts: were u planning on going out w/the band tonite?
thought bout it, Zayn replies.
i dont think im going to.
k
Louis carefully texts back: come over??? we can get room service & watch sumthing
k. a minute later, Louis gets another text: do u have stuff or
yeah
k see u later xx
*
Later ends up being an hour. Louis lays in bed the entire time and tries not to jerk off. His refractory period is not what it used to be, and Zayn’s ego probably couldn’t take it if Louis didn’t get hard. Louis’ ego couldn’t really handle it, either.
Louis gets a text -- k im here -- before he hears the knock on the door. “What’s the magic password?” he asks, undoing the chain lock.
“Louis,” Zayn says.
“Close enough.” When he opens the door, Zayn’s standing too close on the other side. He looks freshly showered, his hair a little wet still, and he’s wearing the kind of clothes he usually sleeps in. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Zayn says.
He closes the door behind him, and Louis wonders if they’re actually going to do this before Zayn takes a few steps into the room, grabs his face and kisses him.
It’s too hard at first; he kisses like he’s pouring all of his energy into doing it right. Louis palms his ribcage and eases back until he can feel less of Zayn’s teeth and lets Zayn push him back down on the bed.
They kiss until it stops feeling frantic, until Zayn’s breathing against his mouth instead of biting it. His hands are unsteady against Louis’ waist. Louis would tell him he doesn’t need to be nervous but thinks Zayn would be pissed at him for noticing. He plays with him instead, draws back when Zayn pushes forward, grabs his wrist when he goes for the button of Louis’ jeans.
The third time Louis ducks his chin with a laugh, Zayn bites his neck, pushes his wrists until they’re pinned over his head.
“Don’t, not where they can see it,” Louis says.
“Sorry,” Zayn says. He tucks his face against Louis’ neck and finally just breathes for a minute. He doesn’t let go of Louis’ wrists.
“What do you want?”
“Whatever you want,” Zayn says. “I don’t--”
“You could blow me,” Louis says and feels Zayn shiver. “Or you could fuck me.”
“Yeah,” Zayn says, “okay, yeah,” and he bites the slope of Louis’ shoulder just hard enough to hurt. Louis lets him, lets him pull his vest off after. Zayn goes for his nipples, which doesn’t do much for Louis, but it’s easy enough to thread his fingers Zayn’s hair and push him down. Zayn’s fingers yank at the button of his jeans. “Hate these--”
“I’ll do it,” Louis says, batting Zayn’s hands away. “You take your own clothes off. I’m not going to be the only naked one here.”
Zayn does, and Louis watches because he’s be a fool not to. Zayn’s slight and wiry and comfortable with it. He seems more at ease naked, leaning over Louis and pushing his briefs down the rest of the way. Then he just looks at Louis’ dick for a moment.
“How’s it going?” Louis asks.
“Has your dick scared me off, you mean,” Zayn says, and he looks at Louis through his lashes. “Bit smaller than I remembered, actually.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Louis replies, shoving Zayn aside. “I take it back. You don’t get to touch my dick after you insult it.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Louis says. “We’re very sensitive.”
“Really.”
“You’re not funny,” Louis says, rolling over until he’s on top of Zayn, who blinks up at him like he’s something new. Louis kisses him because he can’t seem to stop himself. For the first time, it doesn’t feel like Zayn’s fighting him for it.
When he leans back, Zayn still has his eyes open. “I thought you wanted me to blow you.”
“Kind of want to suck you off instead,” Louis says.
He waits for Zayn to nod before he ducks down again. He kisses Zayn’s lips, his throat, his stomach. When he sucks the head of Zayn’s cock into his mouth, Zayn exhales on a whimper. It’s been a while since Louis’ done this. It’s not the best blowjob he’s ever given, but Zayn doesn’t seem to care that much; he’s shaking from the tension of holding himself back, quiet until his dick hits the back of Louis’ throat.
Louis hums at the feeling of Zayn’s hand on the back of his head, and then Zayn says, “Uh,” and comes without much of a warning.
“Thanks,” Louis tells him, wiping his hand over the back of his mouth.
Zayn just pulls him up and wraps his hand around his dick like it’s an apology, and Louis has never been one to hold a grudge.
*
“How it’s going?” Louis asks, later.
Zayn’s got a mouthful of pizza, so he just flips Louis off. Louis figures the press of Zayn’s knee against his thigh says more than he would, anyway.
Not true, etc.
Thanks to Diana, Geena and tamzinrose for letting me bother them. All remaining typos and missing capitals are mine. Title from fun.'s "Some Nights."
It starts on a Tuesday.
Louis only remembers because it’s the day they drop down in New York. It’s like ninety degrees but it feels like two hundred, and management won’t let them perform naked, so Louis wears a pair of shorts and one of Harry’s lanky vests and drinks about a gallon of water.
All it does it make him have to piss every five minutes, though. When they finally go inside, he feels less like he’s going to pass out but more like his bladder is going to explode, which is not a very fair trade-off. They lock him down behind the signing table, and Louis tries to stop watching the clock. The fountain in the middle of the mall doesn’t help. The trickle of water makes him restless.
He doesn’t realize his knee is moving until Zayn’s hand is pressing down on it. “You’re making me nervous, stop,” Zayn says, briefly tucking his face close to Louis’.
Louis is signing something for a girl who looks half-hysterical, and he just nods, shifts his knee until Zayn gets the picture and lets his hand drop.
It comes back a few minutes later. This time Zayn grabs his thigh, the blunt edges of his fingers digging into skin. Louis reaches down with his free hand and hooks their fingers, squeezes Zayn’s hand in warning before he replaces it with his own. Normally Louis wouldn’t care, but he’s got a hyperawareness of his body that sets him on edge. He’s about five minutes from getting up, management be damned. There’s a limit to how long he can hold it in, and he passed it a good fifteen minutes ago.
He sees Zayn’s hand move out of the corner of his eye the third time and slaps it before it can reach him.
“Ow!” Zayn says, too loud. “What are you doing, Louis?”
Louis cuts his eyes at him but says, “You can’t just grope a feel, I’m not that kind of boy,” and he bites Zayn’s bare shoulder, hopes it’s enough of a distraction as he pushes his chair back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go recapture a bit of my dignity.”
They don’t want to let him go, but it’s not like they’re aren’t enough security to get him to the bathroom without getting stampeded. Louis takes the trip on Paul’s back and comes back like he’s a cowboy, throwing an invisible lasso around Harry. The crowd yells a little louder, and Harry turns around with a bemused smile.
“Do I want to know?”
“Wasn’t obscene, I promise,” Louis replies, tugging on Harry’s curls on the way back to his seat. There’s a bottleneck in traffic around his empty chair. “Hi!” he says to the girl closest to him. “How are you?”
It takes another twenty minutes before Zayn touches him again. Louis doesn’t realize he’s anticipating it until he feels Zayn’s hand on his thigh. He glances at Zayn, but he’s flirting with a girl in a Drake t-shirt and doesn’t notice Louis’ raised eyebrow. Louis waits until Zayn leans back in his chair to stretch before he pinches his wrist.
Zayn looks over and lifts his chin in confusion. He’s got one arm pulled behind his head; the other hasn’t moved.
Louis crowds closer, asks, “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” Zayn replies, squeezing above Louis’ knee, but a smirk flits across his face. Louis doesn’t trust that smirk. It’s the smirk that steals all of his pants and puts chili in his porridge.
Louis spends the rest of the signing waiting for the other shoes to drop.
*
It never does.
*
Zayn’s affectionate when he wants to be, but it’s different than the rest of the guys. Harry touches like he’s trying to memorize the feel of Louis’ skin beneath his fingertips, Niall like he just wants to make sure Louis’ still there. Liam’s fleeting and uncertain half of the time and rough the rest, depending how what mood he’s in and how hard Louis is trying to annoy him.
Zayn -- two weeks ago, Louis would have said Zayn was reactionary. He touched Louis when he had a reason to; otherwise, he seemed more than content to keep his hands (knees, elbows, feet, mouth) to himself.
Louis doesn’t know what it is, now. Sometimes, Zayn lures him into a false sense of familiarity and is as distant as he can be, but then he’ll put his arm around Louis’ waist when they’re walking or touch his hip when he leans in to hear something or tug at the hair near the nape of his neck when Louis is half-asleep.
Louis wants to say something, but he can’t figure out how to do it casually. So you’ve been really affectionate lately, yeah? Remember that time you had your fingertips under the band of my pants? Not that I don’t enjoy a little nuzzle every now and then, but--
Every situation Louis can think of ends in Zayn getting defensive and going back to normal. Louis doesn’t want that. He doesn't really know what he wants, but there’s something thrilling about the intentional warmth of Zayn’s hands against him. Louis can’t deny that it -- the splay of Zayn’s fingers against his spine, being close enough to smell his aftershave -- makes his mouth a little dry.
It doesn’t take long for someone to notice. Sometimes Louis forgets that Niall is kind of an observant little shit.
They’re sprawled on a couch, and Louis said something dumb, so now Zayn’s smothering his laughter against his shoulder. Louis just grins and threatens to flatten his hair.
When he looks over, Niall’s looking at him with his eyebrows raised. What, Louis mouths.
Zayn, Niall mouths back.
Louis just shrugs. He doesn’t know if Niall’s referring to the way Zayn’s acting or the way Zayn’s acting with him, but he doesn’t know what to say, either way, and Zayn has decided to get intimately acquainted with my body? seems a little complicated to lip read.
“How much caffeine have you had today, anyway?” Louis asks Zayn, because he suddenly feels weird about the lack of space between them.
“Don’t know,” Zayn says. “Not as much as you, arse.”
He rolls away when Louis pinches the fleshy strip of skin above his jeans, but he keeps their ankles crossed.
Louis can feel Niall’s judging gaze on them the rest of the day.
*
Zayn tells him on a Sunday.
They wake up in a Swedish hotel, and Louis cuddles in bed with Harry for a little bit before Harry ditches him to find food with Niall and Liam. He promises to bring back pancakes, but Louis does not trust him to bring them back in one piece.
He eventually crawls out of bed and into the shower. When he gets out, he has a text from Zayn: u awake?
yes want coffee???
Zayn just texts back, k.
Louis is a little surprised; Zayn usually spends the mornings brooding and sticking close to Liam, because he’s the only one who takes his existential crises seriously.
The room has a complicated-looking coffee machine that Louis possibly breaks. The coffee tastes okay, though, so he leaves it to make weird noises and hopes nothing explodes in his absence.
Zayn’s door is cracked open a little when Louis gets there. Louis elbows it open the rest of the way, says, “I almost died for you.”
“Did you?” Zayn sort of asks. He’s pulling a pair of sweatpants over his hips. He’s wearing plaid briefs.
“The coffee maker had a lot of buttons,” Louis says, not looking at Zayn’s arse. “You probably shouldn’t be half-naked when your door is open, by the way. It’ll end up on the internet somehow.”
Zayn just makes a face at him before he pulls on a shirt, too. He grabs his cigarettes out of yesterday’s jeans and goes out on the balcony, so Louis follows him. There’s a little table with two chairs and a vase of yellow flowers.
“Cozy,” Louis says, dropping down across from Zayn. He sets the coffee down as Zayn lights his cigarette.
“Thanks,” he murmurs out the side of his mouth.
“Sure.”
They sit in a comfortable silence. It’s a bit cold outside, but the coffee helps. Louis is halfway through his cup when he feels Zayn kick his foot. “You’re fit, you know?”
Louis is proud of himself for swallowing before he answers. “Yes?” he replies. “I agree.”
“I mean,” Zayn starts, flicking the cherry of his cigarette off and rubbing his eye. He opens his mouth again, twice, before he shakes his head, bring his coffee to his mouth. “Never mind.”
“You can’t leave me hanging after that,” Louis tells him. “I’m sexy and...?”
“You’re sexy, is all.” Zayn shrugs. “I just wanted to say it.”
“Because...?” Louis asks. His voice is even but he can feel his heart pounding. “Is this some kind of self-esteem intervention? Have you been worrying about me? Aww, Zayn--”
Zayn slaps his hand down when Louis reaches out to pinch his cheek. “Fuck off,” he mumbles. “Shit. Never mind.”
“Zayn,” Louis says, quieter, because he seems embarrassed now. Zayn doesn’t do embarrassed well. Zayn doesn’t do a lot of emotions well, honestly, but there are some Louis feels more equipped to deal with than others. “I’m flattered. You don’t compliment me nearly enough.”
“Like you need it,” Zayn says. He goes back to smoking, his shoulders tense, head turned away from Louis.
Louis finishes his coffee and alternates between watching Zayn and watching the traffic flow beneath them. Zayn lights another cigarette. Louis pushes his toes against Zayn’s instep, and when Zayn doesn’t move away, brushes against his ankle. “Stockholm’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Sure.”
“Weather’s a bit mild, but it’s no worse than England.”
“Suppose not.”
“The chicks are hot.”
Zayn just shrugs. “Hadn’t really noticed.”
“You’re such a liar,” Louis says, tucking both of his feet behind Zayn’s. “Even I noticed.”
“Been noticing you instead,” Zayn says, and it takes Louis a good handful of seconds to actually understand what comes out of his mouth. He still asks, “Sorry, what?” and Zayn pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth, says, “Shut up, you heard it.”
“Yeah, I.” Maybe it’s because it’s too early, or because Zayn’s embarrassed enough already, but Louis doesn’t jump out of his seat and point accusingly like he wants to. “You’ve been flirting with me. I knew you were up to something.”
Zayn rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t exactly subtle about it.”
“You don’t do subtle,” Louis agrees. Zayn’s got two modes: either he wants or he doesn’t. And when he does, he -- practically crawls inside Louis’ skin, apparently. “You should have seduced me with a Chris Brown song or something. Groping can be very ambiguous.”
“I’m not Harry,” Zayn says.
“Fair enough,” Louis says. He looks down at his empty mug and wishes he had something to distract him, slow the conversation down. “I didn’t know you were--” He gestures vaguely.
“I’m not,” Zayn says, gesturing back. “I’m just curious.”
“Ah,” Louis says. he wonders if Zayn would let him back in if he escaped to get more coffee. Probably not. “Harry’s queer too, you know.”
“I know,” Zayn says, looking a little miserable as he runs his hand over his hair. “I’m not curious about Harry, though.”
“Oh.” There isn’t a single word in the English language that Louis can recall for a few moments. He clears his throat. His mouth is suddenly dry. “That’s really flattering, actually--”
“But,” Zayn interjects.
“No buts,” Louis says and very consciously does not allow himself a snicker. “Can we come back to this later? I’m going to need a few more cups of coffee and a wank before I can make any rational decisions.”
Zayn just nods, but he ducks his head and smiles when Louis throws a flower at him.
*
Louis makes a pros and cons list of sleeping with Zayn while they’re waiting at the airport. Zayn is napping in a seat next to Niall, so Louis gets to stare at him as long as he wants and not get flipped off for it.
The cons list says: Will still want to bang him later? Liam will kill me. It could get awkward. Premature ejaculation.
The pros list says: Harry will be jealous. It’ll get awkward anyway. Zayn.
It’s not really a complicated decision, when he looks at it that way.
*
The thing people forget -- the thing Louis forgets -- is that for as hot as Zayn knows he is, he’s also awkward. They spend the day speaking in half-sentences and exchanging brief glances because Zayn gives Louis distance and Louis figures it won’t be well received if he says I really want you to fuck me when there are twelve people within hearing distance.
He doesn’t even know if Zayn wants to fuck him. Maybe he just missed out on a mutual wank when he was younger and wants to make up for it.
Louis lasts another twelve hours and a rather weird but erotic dream before he just caves in and texts: were u planning on going out w/the band tonite?
thought bout it, Zayn replies.
i dont think im going to.
k
Louis carefully texts back: come over??? we can get room service & watch sumthing
k. a minute later, Louis gets another text: do u have stuff or
yeah
k see u later xx
*
Later ends up being an hour. Louis lays in bed the entire time and tries not to jerk off. His refractory period is not what it used to be, and Zayn’s ego probably couldn’t take it if Louis didn’t get hard. Louis’ ego couldn’t really handle it, either.
Louis gets a text -- k im here -- before he hears the knock on the door. “What’s the magic password?” he asks, undoing the chain lock.
“Louis,” Zayn says.
“Close enough.” When he opens the door, Zayn’s standing too close on the other side. He looks freshly showered, his hair a little wet still, and he’s wearing the kind of clothes he usually sleeps in. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Zayn says.
He closes the door behind him, and Louis wonders if they’re actually going to do this before Zayn takes a few steps into the room, grabs his face and kisses him.
It’s too hard at first; he kisses like he’s pouring all of his energy into doing it right. Louis palms his ribcage and eases back until he can feel less of Zayn’s teeth and lets Zayn push him back down on the bed.
They kiss until it stops feeling frantic, until Zayn’s breathing against his mouth instead of biting it. His hands are unsteady against Louis’ waist. Louis would tell him he doesn’t need to be nervous but thinks Zayn would be pissed at him for noticing. He plays with him instead, draws back when Zayn pushes forward, grabs his wrist when he goes for the button of Louis’ jeans.
The third time Louis ducks his chin with a laugh, Zayn bites his neck, pushes his wrists until they’re pinned over his head.
“Don’t, not where they can see it,” Louis says.
“Sorry,” Zayn says. He tucks his face against Louis’ neck and finally just breathes for a minute. He doesn’t let go of Louis’ wrists.
“What do you want?”
“Whatever you want,” Zayn says. “I don’t--”
“You could blow me,” Louis says and feels Zayn shiver. “Or you could fuck me.”
“Yeah,” Zayn says, “okay, yeah,” and he bites the slope of Louis’ shoulder just hard enough to hurt. Louis lets him, lets him pull his vest off after. Zayn goes for his nipples, which doesn’t do much for Louis, but it’s easy enough to thread his fingers Zayn’s hair and push him down. Zayn’s fingers yank at the button of his jeans. “Hate these--”
“I’ll do it,” Louis says, batting Zayn’s hands away. “You take your own clothes off. I’m not going to be the only naked one here.”
Zayn does, and Louis watches because he’s be a fool not to. Zayn’s slight and wiry and comfortable with it. He seems more at ease naked, leaning over Louis and pushing his briefs down the rest of the way. Then he just looks at Louis’ dick for a moment.
“How’s it going?” Louis asks.
“Has your dick scared me off, you mean,” Zayn says, and he looks at Louis through his lashes. “Bit smaller than I remembered, actually.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Louis replies, shoving Zayn aside. “I take it back. You don’t get to touch my dick after you insult it.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Louis says. “We’re very sensitive.”
“Really.”
“You’re not funny,” Louis says, rolling over until he’s on top of Zayn, who blinks up at him like he’s something new. Louis kisses him because he can’t seem to stop himself. For the first time, it doesn’t feel like Zayn’s fighting him for it.
When he leans back, Zayn still has his eyes open. “I thought you wanted me to blow you.”
“Kind of want to suck you off instead,” Louis says.
He waits for Zayn to nod before he ducks down again. He kisses Zayn’s lips, his throat, his stomach. When he sucks the head of Zayn’s cock into his mouth, Zayn exhales on a whimper. It’s been a while since Louis’ done this. It’s not the best blowjob he’s ever given, but Zayn doesn’t seem to care that much; he’s shaking from the tension of holding himself back, quiet until his dick hits the back of Louis’ throat.
Louis hums at the feeling of Zayn’s hand on the back of his head, and then Zayn says, “Uh,” and comes without much of a warning.
“Thanks,” Louis tells him, wiping his hand over the back of his mouth.
Zayn just pulls him up and wraps his hand around his dick like it’s an apology, and Louis has never been one to hold a grudge.
*
“How it’s going?” Louis asks, later.
Zayn’s got a mouthful of pizza, so he just flips Louis off. Louis figures the press of Zayn’s knee against his thigh says more than he would, anyway.