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Ziam Just Relax

"Just relax," Zayn urges, sliding a hand up Liam's thigh.

When they'd first sat down, Liam had been a bit confused by Zayn sliding into his side of the booth. Usually they sit across from each other. He gets it now, though, and Zayn's plan has heat rising to his cheeks.

"Zayn," Liam hisses.

"Relax," Zayn repeats. His hand moves higher up, warm, fingers spread wide, heating Liam's skin through his dress pants. Liam bites down on his lip and looks at his lap, but thankfully this is a rather fancy restaurant, and there's a long table cloth that pretty much conceals the sudden problem in his pants.

"Hello," a female voice says brightly. "My name's Mary and I'll be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

Zayn reaches for the wine menu with his freehand and scans it for a moment before saying, "What do you recommend?" he asks.

"Oh, well, we have a lovely red Bordeaux," Mary says. "Can I interest you in a glass of that?"

Zayn nods and she turns her bright smile to Liam. Liam opens his mouth to say that he'll take the same, but Zayn is suddenly cupping him through his pants, and all of his thoughts cut off for a moment.

"Um-- same-- same for me," Liam gets out.

Mary doesn't seem to suspect anything. She smiles and nods and then puts two menus on the table in front of them before walking off. The moment she's gone Liam turns to Zayn, eyes narrowed. Zayn smiles innocently but he leans in and breathes heavily on Liam's neck.

"What if I got you off right here?" he asks, continuing with his groping of Liam through the material of his pants. Liam is fully hard now, achingly so, and he's also blushing heavily.

"That's not funny, Zayn," he hisses. "We're in public, and--,"

Zayn undoes the buttons on his pants. Liam opens his mouth to protest, but Mary is returning to their table, a bottle of wine in her hands. She's pouring their drinks while Zayn slowly undoes the zipper on Liam's pants, and then shoves his hand inside.

"Fuck," Liam blurts. The second the word is out, Mary looks up at him, frowning. "I-- sorry," Liam says quickly. "That just smells delicious."

"It is," she assures him. "Do you need another minute with your menus?"

Zayn is wrapping his hands around Liam's cock, and he's slowly, so slowly, jerking him off. He's going far too slow for Liam's liking, but they're in public. He shouldn't be doing this at all.

"Do we need another minute, Liam?" Zayn asks, smiling sweetly.

"I--," Zayn tightens his grip and Liam's hips jerk up instinctually. "Yes. Another minute, p-please."

Mary frown again but nods and walks away with her smile still in place.

"Do you think she knows?" Zayn asks. "Do you think she knows how much of a slut you are, fucking into my hand right here at the table while she pours our wine?"

Liam let's out a shaky breath as Zayn twists his wrist a bit, palm sliding over the head, precum smearing over the tip. Fuck, he can't think. He can't breathe. They're in public. Someone is going to see. Someone is going to notice.

He's freaking out, just a bit.

"Do you want me to stop?" Zayn asks.

Freaking out or not, the answer to that question is a breathless, almost moaned out, "No. Please."

Zayn's lips tilt up. "Of course not," he says, speeding up. "You like this, don't you?"

Liam bites down on his lip again, and Zayn's grip gets almost painfully tight, and he knows it's because he didn't answer. "Yes," he grinds out.

"I love seeing you like this," Zayn says, nuzzling Liam's neck. "Cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen from biting them or sucking my cock, eyes wide."

Liam may whimper. Possibly. Very possibly.

Zayn is still jerking him off, picking up a steady rhythm that has Liam's hips feebly jerking up and his legs trembling. He feels far too hot in his suit, and he wants to grab Zayn by the hair and fuck him right there in the booth for this, but he knows he would never do that. He doesn't have the guts. Zayn, on the other hand, apparently does.

Zayn's flipping through his menu casually, like he's not sitting there giving Liam a handjob under the table. Liam curls his fingers into the seat and tries to steady his breathing, tries to make it less obvious. Every time he feels like he's got control again, Zayn will thumb his slit, or tighten his grip, and he looses that control all over again.

Mary comes back eventually and asks them what they want. "I'll have the chicken Parmesan," Zayn answers easily.

Mary writes that down and then turns to Liam. "And you?"

"Um," Liam says, flipping open his menu. Fuck, he should have done this earlier, but Zayn had distracted him and -- oh, fuck. Fuck. Zayn is speeding up, his hand moving up and down Liam's shaft so fast that Liam's breath catches in his throat and his vision goes hazy. "I'll-- I'll have-- I'll--,"

"He can't decide," Zayn tells Mary, rolling his eyes. "He always gets like this. He wants the ribs, but oh, no, he wants the steak. Picky, this one."

Liam is going to kill him for this. He is so, so going to pay.

"Steak," Liam gasps out. "I'll-- steak."

Mary looks at him like he's slightly insane, but Zayn is still smiling like, 'Isn't he adorable?' "That comes with steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes and your choice of either a soup, salad."

"Soup or salad, babe?" Zayn asks.

"Salad," Liam says. Or moans. Okay, he moans it. He is possibly the first person in the entire world to moan out the word salad.

"He's very passionate about his salad," Zayn supplies.

Mary looks like she's considering passing their table onto one of her cowokers. "How would you like that cooked, sir?"

"Medium rare," Zayn answers for him. "Thanks."

Mary nods and walks away, and Liam slumps against the seat, grabbig onto Zayn's thigh. He digs his fingers in, and Zayn arches his eyebrows. "I think she's catching on," Zayn tells him. "You might want to finish before she comes back again, because I bet she'll figure it out next time."

Liam let's out a soft sound, pleading with his boyfriend, and Zayn is nothing if not giving. He twists his wrist again, and then he continues with that brutally fast speed, and Liam's breathing in shallow little gasps as heat coils in his stomach until, finally, he comes. Zayn strokes him through it, fingers slicked by Liam's cum. He palms over the head on purpose, and Liam shivers from the over sensitivity. 

"Next time," Zayn says, wiping his hand on Liam's boxers, "I think I'll get on my knees and blow you, and you can tell the waitress that I'm in the bathroom."

Liam leans forward nad kisses his torterous, insufferable, horrible, perfect boyfriend. "Next time, I'll fuck you in the booth. Whether we're in public or not."

Zayn sips his wine and says, "Looking forward to it."