╠ Shared! ╣

Zarry/Lirry - lips that need

Zayn prided himself on noticing the little things, the little quirks that Harry didn’t think were noticeable and, well, probably weren’t to anyone other than Zayn. But Zayn was a good boyfriend, picked up on it easily, and the slight hitch in Harry’s voice when Liam walked onto the bus, shirtless and sweating and fresh from his workout with Mark was more than obvious. It wasn’t noticeable to Louis or Niall, he was positive that Liam didn’t even notice, but Zayn did. Harry leaned forward on the couch just a little bit, eyebrows rising at whatever drivel was spilling from Louis’ lips, but his eyes were trained on Liam. Zayn smiled softly, slipping his hand from the couch to Harry’s lower back, slipping under the thin material of his t-shirt; his fingertips drew lightly against Harry’s skin, and he didn’t miss it when Harry leaned back against him just a little bit.

And that was how it started, really; that was the first time Zayn really started paying attention to the way that Harry naturally reacted around Liam. And it wasn’t a change, really, from the way they were at The X-Factor house, but it was…different. It was different for them, really, since Harry and Zayn had been a thing (boyfriends, whatever) since halfway through the first tour when Harry got spectacularly drunk, snogged Zayn, and asked if he could go down on him (Zayn, obviously, said yes—and not because he was drunk, because of Harry’s mouth, honestly).

But Zayn guessed it probably had a little bit to do with the recent change in Liam’s…physique. And everyone was appreciating it, really, and Zayn wasn’t even going to deny that it was very, very appealing. And Harry wasn’t exactly good at hiding the way his eyes would linger on Liam whenever he came back from a workout or during costume changes between songs. And Zayn didn’t care, because he knew how Harry felt, and he was the one who got Harry’s hands, mouth, prick, whenever he wanted it. He was the one who had Harry spread out nearly every night, whether it was in the lounge on the bus, in one of the tiny bunks, or on a bed in a hotel suite, fingers clawing at the sheets as Zayn’s fingers and tongue worked him open until he was writhing and squirming and begging.

And Harry was always so good, was willing to do anything for Zayn, and it only made Zayn even madder about him. And any time Zayn caught him staring at Liam, he never called him out on it, only because Harry would drag him aside after, dropping easily to his knees and pulling Zayn’s cock from his jeans, sucking him down until Zayn’s fingers were tangled in his curls as he came down his throat. Zayn guessed that Harry knew what he was doing, after a while, and felt guilty or something,because he would wrap his long limbs around Zayn’s body, rutting against him, whimpering daddy, please. And it got Zayn every time, it really did, the way the words fell so easily from Harry’s lips, and Zayn didn’t even know he wanted that before Harry, probably because he didn’t, but Harry was…Harry, and Zayn didn’t second guess it.

And because Harry was so good, it made Zayn think. And it didn’t take long for Zayn to corner Liam backstage, pulling him to the side before they went onstage with a firm hand on the small of his back.

Liam’s eyes widened, eyebrows high on his forehead. “Yeah, mate?”

“Been thinking,” Zayn started, pursing his lips.

“Uh oh—“

Zayn rolled his eyes, sending Liam a fond smile. “Don’t start.”

Liam grinned, laughing softly. “What’s happening?” he asked in a very poor imitation of Zayn’s accent, completely missing the subtle slurring and gentle lilting that was Zayn’s natural tone.

“What do you think about Harry?” Zayn asked.

Liam shook his head. “No. No, no, m’not getting involved in whatever…sexual craziness you two have going on. I hear things, Zayn, and I don’t need to be involved—“