A Studious Affliction [Ziam] [Student/teacher]

Chapter Twenty.

OKAY GUYS HI! I'm super sorry for the late update; I've been revising like mad to prepare for the sadistic amount of mock exams I have this week! Yayyy. Anyway, that's why this chapter isn't to the same quality as yu may have liked (I've been distracted with revising and such) so I'm sorry. Hopefully that explains the lateness this chapter though but, um, if not, I was at my dad's last weekend and he made me pancakes that were really tasty. Not that that bears any relevance here.

Also, I love the song on the side. Just saying. And check out Andrew Belle - In My Veins! That guy's voice is like butter, my God.

Enjoy! xxx
(I became so awkward when writing the smut, haha! My God, sorry...)

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I anxiously card a hand through my hair one last time as I face his front door, conscious of my heart leaping in my throat and soaring through my veins. Liam's house is fairly large and though obviously not consistently kept, it is neat, and the first moment I saw it, I was thrown off guard by the whole appearance; firstly, I thought Liam had lived in a flat, like Harry. Harry had refrained from telling me that Liam lives in an actual house when he dropped me off here - a long and tiresome story, consisting mostly of Louis. Now I've gotten used to the whole aura around it, though, all I can focus on his my heart beating out of my skin and my stomach writhing around inside of me, crawling up my oesophagus. And it sucks.

Whilst the sensations I feel from seeing Liam or thinking about him or - well, pretty much anything to do with him - are normally very pleasant to feel, if somewhat aggravating and parasitic, the ones I'm currently experiencing are just plain awful. I feel nervous and antsy, like my tongue is tied in knots and my muscles are no longer under my command. In fact, it's like my whole body has staged a mutiny against me, rioting in time to the rapid drumming of my heart. I feel rather faint.

Nevertheless, I have knocked on the front door now, and I can hear footsteps approaching; my guts begin to slip over one another, wriggling like snakes. Holy shit, am I actually going to throw up?! Please tell me I'm not - oh my God, no, Zayn! No puking. Don't puke. Not on Liam's front door. No. No. No-

The door swings open by the time I am feeling green and there stands Liam. All sensations are silenced immediately; my breathing and pulse come to a stand-still. There is Liam, looking all dishevelled in the hottest possible way, only wearing low-slung jeans and a towel which he's slopped over his firm shoulders. His hair is slightly wet, so droplets of water slip down the side of his face an follow the line of his jaw; one is snagged on his plump lower lip and, quickly, he licks it off, his brown eyes inspecting me curiously as those same lips are pulled up into a quirky grin. My God, he is just so... there isn't even a word. The man is impossibly perfect; his stomach is flat and toned and muscular but not in a disgusting photoshop kind of way, and his sun-kissed skin is graciously curved over the tight muscles. My eyes greedily absorb the slope of his waist, and the sight of the 'V' which dips down into his light jeans...

"Zayn, there's a use for your tongue that doesn't require you letting it hang out of your mouth." The sentence is spoken coolly but heat rises to my cheeks. "In fact, I could think of many uses."

My eyes zip up to meet Liam's, which are dark and crisp like caramelized sugar. He reminds me of a hunter - a predator teasing it's prey. And it is enticing. "Yes, sir, I'm sure you could."

He chuckles deeply, pulling the towel down the length of his body to clutch in one, large hand. "Sir? We're out of school, Zayn," he pauses, his eyes glinting for a moment, then continues, "unless you like that kind of thing."