"H-hello Harr- eh."
A call to an accomplice- someone sweeter than a lover; more distant than a memory.
Zayn closes his eyes, allowing damp lashes to fall against the roundness of his cheekbones.
"Zayn, you alright? You sound-"
"M'fine m' just.."
"You sound.."
Zayn couldn't help but give out a breathless laugh- one so short lived that it morphed into something more like a moan.
"I-" but Zayn falls short of a response.
A compromising position; the failed attempts to formulate words, or thoughts, or anything meaningful.
Zayn can feel his hot breath against the shell of his ear, the sent of butterscotch on his lips; the feeling of sin on his tongue.
Liam whispers something so faint against the brown man's skin-
something so soft and so delicate that he couldn't actually tell if he had ever been spoken.
"Talk to him sweet heart, let those words fall from your pretty little mouth," Liam says- commands.
Zayn brushes Liam's mouth away from his burning skin- giving a slight grunt as Liam bucks his against the former man.
"Harry I'll call you back... Yeah?"
Harry holds back any kind of question he may have for the fear of over stepping his boundaries; so he simply signs off with a sudden "yeah."
Liam plucks the phone from Zayn buttery grip and tosses it across the room.
"That was humiliating-"
"It was supposed to be," Liam moans, pressing Zayn down on his back, never willing to disconnect from his heat; burying his face in the crook of the brown boys neck.
Zayn's eyes flutter closed at Liam's words; he's never felt this way- like he was going to rip in half and organs all at once.
Liam is t making love to him; he's hurting him, ruining him, abusing him- it's all so painful, so humiliating, so torturous.
-and yet it gives life to Zayn's steady heartbeat.
This is all he's ever wanted; all he's ever cared about.
He has a heavy wallet; all he's ever cared about.
A million dollar home and a million dollar bed.
He has the attention of a man- the complete and utter attention of a man.
And he's got the music-" it's for the music," Liam would say.
The sleepless, groaning nights beneath the sheets- the downgrading words- the feeling of broken after spending so long trying to build himself up.
It was for the music- at least it was worth the music.
He couldn't help but wonder how he got here. Zayn couldn't help but-
"Liam," he shudders, hitting his peak against the man they call XYZ; never reaching satisfaction.
He couldn't help but wonder how the music could save him and kill him all in the same note.
His ticket out of the cousin Harlem was his delayed flight to hell.
"Feeling inspired yet?" Liam asks, slipping his manhood out from inside Zayn.
Zayn merely turns over; it feels so wrong, spreading his legs for inspiration, spending time with the one you admire only to realize he doesn't admire you back.
Zayn shuts his eyes and turns over in the bed.
The bed where he wishes he was more than just a warm mouth, more than a project.
"Very," Zayn says quietly.
Liam leaves without another word.
They don't share the same room under the same roof.
It's disgusting really- amongst all the pain he did find inspiration, he found music in being abused.
"This love is tainted.."
And maybe, just maybe
He would call this one:
Fool For You.
