Ziam Smut

Poison in our veins,We don't care

Poison in our veins, We don't care
C: zenturies
Summary:
Zayn wakes up to Liam reading & they end up fucking
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Relaxed breathing flows easily throughout the bedroom of their shared apartment, dim lighting staining the smooth cream coloured carpeting, casting slated shadows over various objects, items, including the mountain of books piled on top of the ancient oak wooden desk, wedged into the quarter of the room. Clothes are scattered across the surface of the floor, wrinkled from previous night's escapades of hushed husky voices, rough movements, blazing stares.

There's a low murmur of a familiar soothing voice next to him, sending volcanic chills down his spine, eyes fluttering open to register the pristine sight in his vivid line of vision.

A pair of hands are what he sets his gaze on first. Large curves of sturdy knuckles, slender fingers convexing around the laminate book, the back of his hands wide and boundless, the blunt, circular nail of his thumb, right hand, picking at the edge of the page. Zayn watches as it bends, his own fingers subconsciously twitching beneath the cozy blanket, above the affordable mattress.

Hazel hues soon travel upwards, over the river of Liam's arm where he has the sleeve of the oversized navy blue sweater scrunched up, light hairs spouting in different directions. Liam's bicep comes into play, flexing slightly underneath the supple cotton material when he turns the page of whatever god damn book he's reading, letting adventure drive his thoughts into a catastrophic imagination; the type of creativity Zayn adores.

Zayn loves every part of Liam, but his favourite part to look at, is his face. Liam's been blessed with rounded cheeks, perfectly sculpted jawline chasing in tact, sharp and endearing. So, incredibly unique from his eyes, caramel brown, dark and captivating. His lips are a shiny strawberry red, tinted cerise, bottom lip gleaming with saliva.

He can tell Liam's warped in concentration with the way his knuckles transform from winter pale to pure white, jaw firm and the sides of his temples crinkled. He looks fucking sinister, shoulders broad, but at ease, back leaning against the tough headboard.

Liam doesn't falter when Zayn moves his bare feet, cold toes running along the perimeter of Liam's leg, hairs irritatingly tickling him until he's shifting his waist, a yawn coaxed from his dry throat. Instead of acknowledging Zayn, Liam buries his head further into the pages of the book, neck extending to the side.

"Babe," Zayn whispers. His voice shocks him, gruff and guttural, sleep laced between every syllable.

Liam simply hums, gnawing at the inside of his cheek.

"Come back to bed," Zayn orders softly, curling his hand into a slack fist beside his head.

There's a pause in the air before Liam speaks, but he soon positions a hefty leg over Zayn's thigh, letting him know he's knowledgeable of Zayn's presence. "I am in bed," He mumbles, mischief radiating in his tone.

Zayn huffs, amusement glowing as his lips swirl into a tired smile. "Don't be a smartarse."

Liam's lips yank into a devilish smirk, rotating to the next chapter of the book, comfortable silence suffocating the room, weighing them down in the best way.

"Please?" Zayn questions, reaching out to poke Liam's hip with the end of his index finger.

Puzzlement swivels across Liam's features, eyes skimming the page. "Please what?" He asks and Zayn can tell he's lost his focus, attention slowly loitering towards him. Yes.