Pussyboy

Bellicosity

As soon as I entered the house, I searched for Zayn's demented presence. His demented presence in my house, his demented presence in my life.

Why did that bastard never tell me that's Liam's his fuckin' boss?

Did he have to tell that to me over the fuckin' phone, that fuckin' piece o—

"Niall!"

Zayn's annoying and handsomely sculpted head pop off the kitchen opening. He was smiling at me, well before he saw my face and the expressions I might have been making. He was just irritating.

"Zayn," I called as I came closer. That expression of fallen delight replaced with some idiotic facial expression of worry. Damn right he should worry.

"We need to talk."

I said to him when I was only a fist from him, all the while punctuating every word.

He nodded in response. He went back into the kitchen where I saw what he was doing.

"You're cooking?"

I was surprised. He was cooking something on the skillet. He went back and I noticed the apron wrapped around himself. He was still slender. I couldn't have cared anyway. It's not like I ever gawked at his body anyway. I prefer Liam's since I like men – my men – to have bodies that are built to rail you and fuck you all night and never let their cocks outta your cunt. Well, that's my philosophy around it all anyway.

I stood closer to him. I saw the skillet, he was cooking bacon and eggs.

"Isn't it a bit late to cook breakfast?"

I asked him snarkily. He hummed and nodded like he didn't take that spit seriously. Annoyed, I leaned on the counter as I looked him over.

"You're not makin' me feel like shit with that, Nialler."

He snickered lightly.

"I bet," he started, all the while never looking towards me as he spoke. "You had a rough day, didn't you?"

"Whoring around?"

"No," he said like he was this know-it-all. "You went for a roller coaster ride, didn't you?"

"Dense still, I see."

He said that with so much shittiness that even I couldn't deny it. I simply leaned back and watched him, eyed him — whatever you can call it.

He thinks he's some big shot now being someone rich's bodyguard, huh?

"You think you're some big shot now?"

He flipped those bacon strips and didn't respond. He simply ignored me.

"How did you think you got that job?"

I pushed his buttons.

If I remember correctly, there was only one thing Zayn hated. His lack of proof of his manliness. In short, he hated being quizzed on his career.

Well, every man had to have a career, right? What kind of man can shoot up sperm and never get to a high position in life at all? What kind of stupid man spends their beginning life in adulthood shitting on his own family, and just whisks away whoring around for free anyway?

"How do you feel?"

He hasn't looked up yet. Still pushing and pulling the bacon strips on the pan as it sizzled.

"How'd you feel being hired by the very person you hated and got jealous of when we got married?"

He stopped doing the pushing and pulling. He flipped the spatula thing, brought the bacon strips up and let it drip and pulled a plate to place it in. He did the same with the eggs but he didn't do much. Justlet it drip.