ziam smut

Breath Me

Breathe Me
mixingofmorals ao3

Summary:

Liam and Zayn just smoking and getting off basically.
(But with all the sweetness inbetween.)

I just briefly read these before I post them, like skim through the paragraphs to make sure its like actually ZIAM smut like ya know what I'm sayin

----------

Work Text:

This was a mistake. In every aspect, shape, form, and fashion. There's cigarette smoke literally clouding the air and Liam can't breathe. It stinks in here, honestly. The scent of spilled alcohol, and food that's been left out for a day too long fill the house. And the poor school kids that heave over as they vomit don't make things better.

It's just that-- you see, Liam isn't lame. He's not a joy kill, nor is he a bump in the road. He's just responsible. And sanitary, and logical and not reckless. This isn't his style nor his crowd. And he'd be on his way home if it weren't for Zayn.

His hand is tight and warm as it pulls Liam's body through the house. Guiding him through the maze of bodies grinding and jumping to the loud bass of the song that blasts from a nearby stereo.

He's the only reason Liam is here actually. Because Zayn is everything he's not, Zayn is the Sun in the morning when it peaks through his window on Saturdays. Zayn is the tightness he feels in his chest and the swoop in his stomach when he's on a rollercoaster.

But mostly Zayn is the splash of gleaming sun ray in Liam's dull black and white world. And this black haired angel keeps turning around, checking on Liam to see if he's okay. Flashing a lazy smile as they make their way outside.

The music is deafening, spilling out onto the pasture they wander into. Zayn is insistent, his grip on Liam not wavering, the moon's glow settling onto his mischievous features as he persuades Liam farther out.

"Come on, Li. " His voice is soft and almost shy and Liam can't, honestly can't turn around and deny him.

They're treading farther and farther away from the house, which is already on the outskirts of the city.

"It's not that far, I promise." Zayn's turning around again, that sweet smile of his gracing his features.

"Zayn, I just-- Where the hell are we going?" His shoes are probably fucked by this point. The ground muddy and wet beneath them, as they walk nearer to the trees.

The moon beams are their only sense of sight, leaving everything lightly dimmed. But then a clearing comes around the bend of a lake and Zayn is tugging harder now, walking faster.

Liam stares out at the water, the entire sky reflected on it's surface, a parallel world looking right back at them.

Then he's being tugged towards the wall of trees to the side, and snuggled in the brush is a cabin. Empty, abandoned, and dark. Almost invisble in the the shadows cast by the oaks.

"Wait what? You're taking me there? Zayn, no," His tries to slip his hand out of Zayn's but fails. "We can't- this, we don't even know who's this is. This is trespassing, breaking and entering. Jesus-"

But Zayn is pressed against him, just like that. And his breath is gone.

"I know who owns the place, he said we could chill out here if we wanted. It's fine, love. I promise, now come on."

Zayn is there and warm and lighting his skin aflame. His eyes are the color of the moon lit bark on the trees, with sparkles from the lake. He's all midnight sky hair, and soft linings of hair along his jaw, and he's beautiful. Beautiful--or maybe exquisite. Exquisite could be close to the sight of him.