As He Moves

Chapter 12

There's fumbling and groping as they try to get in the door of the apartment, like neither of them can wait. Liam all but pushes Zayn inside, and Zayn doesn't fight him on it at all because Liam like this is incredibly fucking hot, actually. Not that he doesn't like it when he's the one pushing Liam down, guiding him, showing him what he wants, because he definitely does. He just likes this too. All of it. Slow, fast, soft, rough. He'll take Liam anyway he can get him.

"Next part of your lesson," Liam says, kicking the door closed and walking Zayn backwards with Zayn helpless to do anything but trust that Liam won't walk him into anything painful. His legs hit the couch, and Liam turns them at the last second so it's Zayn falling on top of him, not the other way around. "Hold the back of the sofa."

Zayn does as he's told, straddling Liam's waist, holding the couch for balance. Just as Liam had to him, Zayn experimentally grinds down against him until Liam groans and tilts his head back. "And then?"

"Off," Liam mumbles, pushing at Zayn's shirt. He complies easily, slipping it off slowly, taking his time, and when he's done Liam is watching him with heavily lidded eyes. "You're way too fast of a learner."

Zayn laughs. "What's next, babe?" He moves against Liam again, bracing all his weight on his hands.

Liam nips at the inside of his bicep, right on top of a tattoo, and now Zayn's groaning. "Unzip my jeans," he orders.

Zayn does as he's told, fingers shaking just a little as he leans back, fumbling with the button on Liam's, quite frankly, tight jeans. When he finally gets the zipper down, Liam puts a hand on the small of his back and lifts them both up easily, dropping Zayn onto his back.

"Don't move," Liam tells him, and Zayn nods as Liam heads for the bedroom.

He moves. Instead of listening, he unbuttons his own jeans and shimmies out of them, still lying flat on his back. He takes everything else off, too, just tugging off his last sock when Liam comes back and makes a soft, helpless sound.

It's just Liam, he reminds himself. Who cares if he's completely naked. "Come on," he urges. "It's not exactly warm in here."

Liam chuckles, wasting no time in making his way over. He shucks the last of his clothes, too, and then climbs on top of Zayn, settling between his spread legs. "Are we really going to fuck on the sofa?" he asks, like the idea is ridiculous.

Zayn shrugs. "Was bound to happen eventually," he points out.

Liam nods, like he knows it was, and then he pushes Zayn's legs a bit farther apart.

They're both too impatient to stretch it out and take their times. Liam quickly slicks up his fingers and the next moment he's pushing one into Zayn carefully, looking up at him with wide eyes as if to ask if he's okay. Zayn moans his assurance and Liam keeps going, working it in and out of him until Zayn's needy for another one, pushing down against him.

"Love you on top of me," Zayn mumbles, a bit incoherent with his head pressed against the cushion and his eyes squeezed closed. It's like an assault, the way Liam presses against that spot inside him like he knows exactly what to do to drive Zayn crazy. "Fucking—love it."

"Love you underneath me," Liam tells him, lips brushing Zayn's cock. "You look amazing."

"Love you," Zayn gasps, eyes flickering open at Liam swallowing him down. He looks, and Liam's giving him a surprised look somehow, even though his lips are sort of wrapped around Zayn's cock. "I didn't—I mean, I just sort of— slipped out. Sorry, I—"

Liam shakes his head, lowering his mouth, quirking his fingers inside of Zayn, and it feels a lot like an I love you too to Zayn.

"Just—" Zayn waves a hand. "You better get in me now unless you want me to come first."

Liam nods hastily, pulling off him, seemingly unaware of the obscene string of saliva connecting his lips to the head of Zayn's wet prick. He slicks himself up, and neither of them even bothers for the box of condoms back in the bedroom that they'd gotten a few days ago. Zayn could care less, and Liam obviously couldn't, either. Not enough to break this up to grab one.

It hurts as Liam pushes into him. It's been forever since he's done this with anyone, and the discomfort weighs out over everything until Liam bites at his earlobe and whispers, "Tell me when you're okay and I'll make it good for you."

"Do it," Zayn presses. "Fuck. Now, Liam."

Liam laughs hotly against his neck, but he does as he's told. He wraps a hand around one of Zayn's ankles, pushing it up and up and, damn, Zayn didn't even know he was that flexible. But the move makes Liam slide deeper, and he feels so fucking full, stretched, and it's—

"Fuck," Zayn groans. "Fuck, Liam."

"Yeah," Liam agrees. He starts moving, slow at first, careful, but Zayn rakes his nails down Liam's back and Liam moves, twisting his hips until Zayn cries out, throwing an arm over his face. He bites down hard on his own arm, trying to distract himself from how much, how good it feels, but Liam pulls his arm away. "Don't hide," he says.

"So-sorry," Zayn mumbles. "I— fuck, oh. Can you— yeah, yeah."

"There?" Liam asks, and when Zayn looks up there's an unsurprisingly smug look on Liam's face.

"Now who's— the smug one?" Zayn grunts.

Liam just grins down at him, but then Zayn bears down on him and that look slips away, followed by a moan that he doesn't try to hide or stifle the way Zayn would have. But Liam never has and this is no exception. He's just – open about everything, about how he feels and Zayn loves it. Loves that he can tell how good this is for Liam just by looking at him, the way his lips part and his brow scrunches.

Eventually he reaches a hand between them, wrapping it around himself because he can't help it, he has to come. He has to come fucking now, because the tension in his body has him taught and clenched, and he needs— he's so close.

Liam is, too. Zayn can tell. Liam's eyes are always wide open before he does, holding Zayn's, and there's a hitch in his breath just before Zayn comes and Liam falls on top of him, trapping Zayn's hand between his body as he falls over the edge and tumbles down, down, down with nothing but Liam to cling to.

There's nothing but heavy breathing afterwards and the sticky mess between them. Liam eventually pushes himself up, hovering over Zayn, and Zayn winces as Liam pulls out of him. He wants Liam back, wants this to continue and never end, but he's exhausted already and all he wants is to get cleaned up and fall asleep.

After, when Liam's wiped them both down and they're curled on the sofa again, a blanket thrown precariously over them both, Liam kisses at the top of his head and asks, not looking at him, "Did you mean, or was it just a heat of the moment thing?"

Zayn doesn't have to ask what he means. He does, however, have to look up at Liam. He's a coward when it comes to his own emotions a lot of the time, Zayn, but not with Liam. "What if it wasn't a heat of the moment thing?" he wonders.

Liam bites his lip. "Then I'd – I do, too. If it wasn't, that is. I do."

"Yeah," Zayn says. He lays his head on Liam's chest again, and Liam brushes his hands down Zayn's arms. "I do, then."

And for the millionth time, they fall asleep there on their lumpy sofa with a scratchy comforter thrown over them and the light of the streetlamp just outside their window shining over them.