These Violent Delights (Zirry Love Triangle)

Ten

"Zayn?"

"Expecting someone else?"

"What are you doing here?" Harry managed to ask once he was able to breathe again.

Zayn shook his head as if to clear it before releasing Harry and stepping back, pulling off his snapback and running a hand through his hair. "Nothing, fuck. I mean, I just came to hang out."

"You wanna hang out...with me?"

"I didn't have anything better to do at the moment, so yeah, why not? Plus I figured you shouldn't spend all your time with that loser Payne."

Harry knew he should say no. He did. He knew that it was wrong to hang out with Zayn when he was kinda, sorta dating Liam. Plus, he and Zayn didn't hang out. Like, ever. So yeah, it was definitely wrong. He just couldn't bring himself to care about what was right and what was wrong. Not when Zayn was here, right in front of him, and staring at him with those doe eyes. They had always captivated Harry. How did they manage to look so innocent, when the rest of Zayn's face was all hard edges and sharp planes?

So he found himself letting out a quiet, "Alright," as he walked as nonchalantly as he could into the living room, suddenly feeling like his limbs were too long for his body. Where Liam could make Harry totally forget his awkwardness at times, when he was around Zayn he never felt anything but awkward. Zayn was just so cool, and Harry was just so not.

For some reason this only made Harry want to be around Zayn more, despite how uncomfortable it made him. There was no one he would rather be around. He knew that much, even if he didn't know why. And fuck, he wished he didn't feel this way. He wondered what twisted, dark part of him craved Zayn, so much so that he didn't care how Zayn treated him, as long as he was near.

Why couldn't his stomach clench and his heart race like this around Liam? I mean it did, it definitely did, but not like this. 

Harry pushed those thoughts aside when Zayn sat next to him on the sofa, so close that their legs were touching, because suddenly he was no longer capable of thinking of Liam. Of thinking of anything but the heat and nervous energy radiating off of Zayn.

An hour later and he was just past buzzed, well on his way to being drunk. Once again he'd been unable to say no to Zayn. Of course you can go in my mum's liquor cabinet. Of course I'll have another. Anything you want Zayn, emphasis on anything. Luckily Harry had kept that last thought to himself, but he had no doubt that Zayn knew that Harry was putty in his hands. That Harry was his.

So he was thrilled to feel Zayn place his hand on his leg while they watched a movie, steadily working its way up his thigh, not even trying to be subtle about it. Emboldened by the alcohol, he placed his own hand on Zayn's leg, and he felt disappointment flood through him when Zayn brushed it away and stood up. But he was back seconds later, after turning off the light, and this time he wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him closer as he moved Harry's hand back to his leg.

Harry took a chance, moving his head to connect his lips with Zayn's. Zayn turned his head away before Harry could kiss him, but he angled his neck just so, letting Harry know that it was okay to kiss him there. And then Harry was kissing Zayn. Actually fucking kissing him. Sure, Zayn wasn't kissing him back, but Harry's lips were still on Zayn's skin, and that was enough for him. His head spun as he tasted Zayn for the first time, overwhelmed by the scent of cigarettes and cologne, and the taste of sweat and something spicy, something distinctly Zayn. Something that Harry wanted to taste forever.

He felt Zayn's hand on the back of his neck moving him away moments later, far sooner than Harry wanted to be pushed away, needing more. He let out a low groan of complaint, one that he cut off as soon as he realized that Zayn wasn't so much pushing him away as down; down where he wanted Harry and where Harry wanted to be.

So even though Zayn still hadn't kissed him, Harry wasn't really that surprised to find himself on his knees in front of Zayn, and he certainly wasn't about to complain, not when Zayn was unzipping his own jeans and pulling his dick out. Harry had never wanted anything in his mouth so badly before, and he wasn't going to let the fact that he had never done this before stop him from trying.

He felt Zayn's hands run through his hair, not so much forcing him closer as guiding him, not that Harry needed any encouragement to wrap his lips around Zayn's length. He sucked on his tip for a few seconds, enjoying the taste of Zayn, before sliding down further, not stopping until Zayn hitting the back of his throat made him choke. He pulled off to take a gasping breath, but was back on Zayn right away, reminding himself to take his time as he swallowed as much of him as he could, trying to relax his throat as his own cock throbbed in his jeans. 

The weight of Zayn on his tongue made him even harder, but it was the filthy words tumbling out of Zayn's mouth that were making him crazy. Zayn's voice never rose above a whisper, somehow managing to make his moans of fucking take it, I want you to gag on it seem almost sweet. His mutterings were all jumbling up to form one fact in Harry's lust-filled brain - that he was the one making Zayn feel this good, that for these few minutes he held the power - when Zayn's voice took on a rougher tone. A tone that Harry couldn't have ignored even if he'd wanted to.

"Take your cock out. I wanna see you come," he demanded. Harry's hands immediately flew to his jeans, fumbling as he tried to unbutton them. He felt a wave of relief rush through him as he took himself in hand, already embarrassingly close to coming.

Zayn's hand found his own dick, still slick with Harry's spit, and he started to pump himself slowly as he kept his eyes on Harry. Harry's hand began to move faster under Zayn's steady gaze, and he felt a warmth spreading through him when he realized that Zayn had sped up to match Harry's pace.

A familiar heat began to coil in his belly as he neared the edge, but it was different this time. Better, because he wasn't just picturing Zayn in his head. He was actually there, right in front of Harry, jerking off because Harry had made him hard. Zayn was all that Harry could see, his tattoos dancing as his muscles flexed while he worked himself over. He was all that he could taste, the tang of his precome still fresh on Harry's tongue. His moans were all that Harry could hear, and they were getting increasingly louder as Zayn scooted closer.

Harry opened his mouth, driven purely by instinct and the need to please Zayn, and he tightened his grip and stroked himself faster as Zayn started to come. His dick was only an inch away from Harry's mouth, and he felt each spurt hit him, licking his lips and swallowing it all down greedily. Harry started to come just as Zayn finished, coating his fingers as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Once Harry was able to focus again, he saw Zayn standing, his pants already zipped as he started to back away.

Harry climbed to his feet unsteadily to follow after him. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, I didn't realize it was this late...," he started, and Harry could feel his face fall more and more the closer Zayn got to the door. Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to watch Zayn walk out on him, but he opened them when he felt a hand on his cheek. It was gone almost immediately, but Harry swore he could feel his skin tingling where Zayn had touched him. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

Harry didn't get a chance to answer before Zayn was out the door. Harry slumped against it, not sure of what to feel. He felt incredibly alone now that Zayn was gone, but he couldn't help but feel closer to Zayn than he had in years. Sure, it hadn't exactly been romantic, and he still didn't know what Zayn's lips against his own would feel like, but Zayn had been almost gentle with him. It was good enough for Harry, for now.