Summary: Where Zayn has to hold out, Liam learns how to take a punch, Louis asserts his control, and Zayn’s mum is way cooler than all of them
By: Zappowziamfeelsbomb.archiveofourown.org
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Zayn hit the mat with a thud that reverberated through the gym and Liam was on his feet before he could stop himself.
At the edge of the ring, precariously balanced against the ropes, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn’s manager, looked up at Liam with fire in his eyes and put his arm up, palm facing Liam, instructing him to stay back. Not requesting, not begging. Not even asking nicely. Louis was silently and efficiently ordering him to stay the fuck away. Liam could see the determination in Louis’s eyes and he couldn’t disobey.
Liam stopped in his tracks, put his hands on his hips in a defiant pose, then ran his right hand through his hair, watching—waiting—to see Zayn get up from the mat.
The trainers were hunched over Zayn, whispering, fingers at his wrist checking his pulse, then just as suddenly as he’d been knocked down, Zayn was being heaved to his feet.
Zayn rolled his neck on his shoulders and nodded to the trainers as they talked to him and checked over the slash on his cheek.
Liam crossed his arms and rooted himself to the spot. He wasn’t moving until he was sure that Zayn was okay.
Louis cleared his throat, getting Zayn’s attention, and cocked his head in Liam’s direction.
Zayn caught sight of Liam immediately and gave him a shy smile and a wink.
Liam let out a long breath and retreated back to his seat away from the ring.
Liam watched as Louis arched an eyebrow in a silent question to Zayn—Liam had to assume about Zayn’s ability to continue—and Zayn gave one clipped nod in reply. Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Louis jumped off the side of the ring.
“Again!” he yelled.
Zayn put up his gloved hands as he and his sparring partner met in the center and the room was filled again with the rhythmic patter of feet on the mat as they circled each other.
Liam leaned forward in his chair and put his elbows on his knees, trying to appear casual as Louis stalked across the room to him.
“We have a problem, Payne?” Louis questioned.
Louis wore a red button-down shirt over trousers that were bordering on too tight, no socks, and footwear that looked suspiciously like yachting deck shoes and yet somehow managed to make the ridiculous ensemble appear menacing. Louis took no shit, gave no quarter, and had a way of silently demanding respect despite his diminutive frame.
This wasn’t Liam’s first time in the gym while Zayn was training, and if Liam had his way it wouldn’t be his last. But he knew that if his presence was going to be accepted then he had to abide by everything Louis “the English Bulldog” Tomlinson ordered.
Liam shook his head. “You know as long as he’s standing I’m okay.”
Louis laughed, a raucous noise that made Zayn’s attention snap over to them and Liam watched as Zayn barely gained his focus fast enough to duck out of the way of right hook from his sparring partner. Louis had his back to the ring, but Liam’s face must have given something away because Louis immediately stopped laughing and eyed Liam.
“You’re a distraction for him. When you’re here he ends up on the mat more than he should.”
Liam tore his eyes away from Zayn and glared back. He had to listen to Louis, but there was no way he was being driven out of the gym. Today or any day. “Well then maybe you need to find him better trainers.”
Louis considered him, his gaze boring through Liam as if he was seeking the secret to Liam’s compliance and would find a way to grasp onto it and tear it out of him.
At moments like this, Louis scared Liam just a bit.
Okay, a lot.
Liam swallowed nervously. Didn’t say anything.
Louis grinned—a dangerous smirk of confidence and knowing—then said, “Perhaps I do need to find him better trainers. If you can distract him this easily then he’s not ready.”
“That’s your call, Lou,” Liam retorted, using the nickname he knew Louis hated.
Louis took one step closer to Liam, crowding his personal space. “You know that boxing is not all about remaining standing right? It’s mostly about the ability to get the fuck back up when your brain and body are telling you to give in.”
“Zayn doesn’t quit. You get him the right trainers and he’ll find the focus to stay on his feet and make sure it’s the other guy who has to worry about how the fuck to get up off the mat,” Liam said, throwing Louis’s words back at him.
Louis shook his finger at Liam and smiled, all ferociousness gone from his demeanor. “I like you, Payne. I shouldn’t. But I do.”
“It’s inevitable,” Liam said as he shrugged. “Everyone likes me.”
“You may just be more dangerous than he is,” Louis observed, casting a glance back to the ring.
“I highly doubt that,” Liam replied. “Pretty sure I couldn’t take anyone down using child’s pose.”
Louis’s eyes narrowed. “No. You’re a charmer. A lion in puppy dog’s clothes. Kill them with confidence and charm, right? And you, Liam, have both in spades.”
Liam tipped his head toward the ring, where the swish and thwack of gloves against flesh was now coming at a regular rate. “You don’t think he’s ready?” Liam deflected, alluding to the fight Zayn was in tomorrow.
Louis turned toward the ring and watched the sparring match. “He’s ready for Sorenson. But Gamble is going to be another story altogether.”
“We have three months until Gamble,” Liam noted.
“We,” Louis said, dragging out the word. “Interesting.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Liam said with conviction.
Louis gave a gruff hmph. “We’ll see if you still mean that after Sorenson.”
Liam sat back in his chair and watched Zayn evade a jab then slam a fist into his sparring partner’s jaw that sent the other man reeling into the ropes.
Liam was still getting used to the idea of seeing his boyfriend beat to shit—with cuts on his face and body, swollen hands, and a fatigue that came from hours in the ring, working out, and an insane diet designed for Zayn to make weight. But Liam had never met anyone like Zayn before. So quiet and unassuming. Geeky. Intelligent. Brave. Completely unaware of just how charismatic he was.
And beautiful. So beautiful inside and out that he made Liam’s heart ache. Liam had fallen for Zayn hard and fast. He didn’t even try to deny it. But Zayn, on the other hand, still seemed to be hesitant about their relationship.
It didn’t matter though; Liam was just as persistent as Zayn. Just as stubborn.
Three months until Gamble. Until the fight that would put Zayn into the international fighting spotlight if he could win it. When he won, Liam corrected himself.
Before then Zayn had to get through David Sorenson, a lightweight from eastern Europe. It would be the first real fight Liam would be ringside for, and to say he was anxious about that reality was an understatement. He’d been coming up to Scotland every other week since meeting Zayn six months ago. Making the trek up from London was wearing on him, and they spent most of their time in this gym, but every moment was worth it.
While Zayn trained and fought to make it to his ultimate goal of being an Olympian, Liam was training and fighting for Zayn’s heart.
Liam smirked as he thought about his plans for them after the Sorenson fight. After Zayn won that fight.
He had no doubt. Both of them were going to be successful in their ultimate goals.
Chapter Two
Zayn peeled the rest of the tape off his hands, balled it up and tossed it into the garbage can. He flinched from the movement, and the ice pack on his shoulder shifted out of place.
Then a hand was moving the sloshing bag back over his collarbone and there were fingers threading through his sweat-soaked hair. Zayn leaned back into the touch.
“How you feeling?” Liam asked quietly from behind him.
“Ready,” Zayn answered simply.
Liam moved around him and sat on the bench in front of Zayn.
“I don’t know much about boxing, but you look quite fit,” Liam said with a cheeky grin.
Zayn’s lips tipped into a smile. “I could say the same about you.”
“You ready to head home? Or is there something else you need to do to get ready for the fight?” Liam asked as he leaned forward and took Zayn’s hands into his, running his thumbs over the back of Zayn’s hands in circles.
Zayn watched the movement. Savored the way even this gentle of a touch from Liam made him swoon just a bit. “I made weight this morning. Now it’s time to put some of that weight back on. So…”
Liam looked up at him. “So?”
“My parents are in town for the fight and they want to have dinner.”
Liam let go of Zayn’s hands and sat back. “Right. Well I can go out for a bit, maybe go to a yoga class in town. I haven’t checked out the studios here—”
Zayn found himself getting nervous. Much more nervous than any of his usual pre-fight anxiousness. “They want us to have dinner with them,” he clarified.
“Us?” Liam said, his voice catching on the word.
Zayn chuckled and ran his hand through his drooping quiff, smoothing the sweaty hair off his forehead. “I believe that’s what I said.”
“I thought they didn’t know. About you I mean, not us,” Liam stammered. “But I suppose that would mean they don’t know about us either.” Liam furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry, I’m quite baffled.”
“They don’t know. About me or us,” Zayn clarified. “At least most of my family doesn’t. Pretty sure my mum has it figured out by now. But I slipped, told her you were visiting and she invited you to come out as well.”
“Come out,” Liam said wryly. “Right.”
Zayn laughed. “Poor choice of words. You know what I mean.”
Liam tapped his foot in a nervous gesture. “So. I guess… I’m… Right, well then. So I’m a friend visiting from London then, right?”
Zayn nodded slowly. “You are that, yes. But more.”
Liam’s eyes widened. “And you want to tell them. About you? About us?” Liam threw up his hands in defeat. “I’m lost here, Zayn. Help. Please.”
“Honestly, I don’t know either. But it seems as if I’ve gotten on this ride and I’m not too keen to get off of it—off you—anytime soon,” Zayn snickered and leaned over to pat Liam’s knee.
Liam glared at him, but Zayn could see the underlying smile.
“I don’t know what that means,” Liam said.
Zayn got up and dropped himself onto Liam’s lap and gave him a slow kiss.
“I’m not quite sure either,” Zayn said as he reluctantly pulled away from Liam’s lips. “I am just going with it. No plans, no ulterior motives. Just dinner with my parents,” Zayn said in a soothing tone as he rubbed Liam’s head.
Liam closed his eyes and nearly purred as Zayn scratched the buzzcut. “This sounds like the worst idea ever.”
Zayn choked out a laugh and gave Liam a light slap on the head. “It may well be. But mum and dad are coming to the fight and you’re going to be there and yeah. I don’t know. I suppose this is my way of saying to you that maybe it’s time to take us to a new level.”
Liam jumped nearly toppling Zayn off his lap and to the floor. “A new level, Zayn? Are you mad?” Liam’s eyes searched Zayn’s. Zayn could see the confusion there, but couldn’t place where it was coming from. Then Liam said, “Here I’ve been wondering if you’re really into me at all and you want to jump from that to coming out to your parents?”
“What are you talking about?” Zayn said in surprise.
“What are you talking about?” Liam immediately retorted.
Zayn ran his fingers down Liam’s face, sparing a second to run his thumb over Liam’s oh-so-fucking-stunning lips. “Oh, Li. Have I really been that cool? I am completely and utterly into you.”
Liam furrowed his brow again and knocked Zayn on the side of the head. “How hard did that wanker hit you?”
Zayn chuckled and pulled Liam in for another quick kiss. “Are you going to come with me to dinner?” Zayn jutted out his bottom lip, giving Liam the look Zayn knew he couldn’t resist. “Please, Li. Please.”
“Fuck off,” Liam said cheekily. “As if I would say no.”
“It’s settled then,” Zayn replied as he climbed off Liam’s lap and started to pack his bag. “You already know my mum. And I think she likes you, just a bit.”
“And your dad?” Liam asked.
Zayn could hear the worry in Liam’s tone. Honestly, he was a bit worried, too.
Zayn turned to face Liam and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“No pressure,” Liam quipped.
“No pressure,” Zayn reassured him and shouldered his bag. Then he gave Liam a wink. “Just don’t fuck up.”
Chapter Three
“Liam! Darling!” Trisha exclaimed as she wrapped Liam in a hug that huffed all the breath out of him.
Behind him Zayn kept a hand on Liam’s lower back even through the monstrous hug and pulled Liam back into a casual embrace when Zayn’s mum finally let go of her death grip.
Liam started to blush as Zayn tugged him closer. “Hello, Mrs. Malik.”
“Trisha, please,” Zayn’s mum offered. If she was surprised by Zayn’s show of affection then she didn’t acknowledge it, and Liam breathed a small sigh of relief. But there was still the very intimidating—and very oh-my-god-he’s-standing-right-there-watching-us—factor of Zayn’s dad, whose eyes were transfixed to where Zayn’s arm was slung around Liam’s waist.
Trisha yanked on Zayn’s dad’s arm, drawing him next to her. “And this is Yaser.”
“Dad, this is Li,” Zayn said with an ease that Liam wasn’t feeling at all.
“Liam Payne, sir,” Liam said, extending his hand.
Zayn’s dad hesitated for only a breath and then reached out and pumped Liam’s hand in a firm grip. “So you’re the yoga instructor. I suppose I have you to thank for Trisha’s new found inner peace.”
Liam swallowed and tried to crack a smile. Which he was sure had to be closer to a grimace than anything remotely warm.
Get yourself under control, Liam thought. He leaned into Zayn, took a deep breath and answered, “I suppose so.”
Yaser narrowed his eyes in a look that was so Zayn, Liam had to restrain a nervous bark of laughter. “And I’m to take it that you’re also the one who has been putting that lovesick grin on my son’s face for the last six months.”
“Dad!” Zayn protested.
Liam was absolutely sure he was going to faint as all the blood rushed from his heart and into a full body blush. “I suppose that as well,” he stammered.
Trisha playfully socked Yaser and he erupted into laughter. “What? It’s true, right? Let’s see if our table is ready,” he said as he walked away still chuckling.
Liam was floored, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to form words. Any words. Anything.
Zayn had his head in his hands when Liam turned toward him. Zayn peeked an eyeball out. “Well that was thoroughly embarrassing.”
Trisha huffed. “It’s of your own doing, sweetie,” she said with a wink.
“Fair enough,” Zayn replied dejectedly. Yaser waved to them from the door of the restaurant. “Let’s get this over with then.”
Trisha just beamed back a radiant smile and turned to enter the restaurant.
“Your parents are lovely,” Liam whispered with only a touch of humor in his voice and planted a kiss on Zayn’s cheek.
Zayn just shook his head and held the door open for Liam. “Welcome to the insanity that is my life.”
Chapter Four
“I know I was giving you shit when I said earlier that your parents are lovely, but they really are,” Liam said as they walked into Zayn’s apartment.
Zayn gave a mumbled hmmm in reply and clicked the door shut behind him.
Lovely was not a word he would use to describe his parents. Especially after they’d spent most of dinner interrogating Liam about his family and inquiring into the long term viability of his job. But Liam stayed patient, listening attentively to every question and seeming to be absolutely okay with answering everything they asked. He’d won them over by the end. He really was irresistible. The decisive moment had come when Li—with a wink and an under-the-table pinch on Zayn’s thigh—said that he agreed with Trisha that Zayn needed to come home more often, especially since he was in London anyway staying with Liam.
Of course, his mum had insisted that next Liam needed to meet Zayn’s sisters.
And have some of her famed chocolate cake.
Zayn was thoroughly sunk.
He hadn’t been lying to Liam when he said he was completely into him. The more time he spent with Liam, the more he came to the conclusion that it was impossible for any human being to dislike Liam Payne.
Maybe that was part of the problem.
Zayn was used to having to fight for everything. Yes, his upbringing had been better than most, but it hadn’t been smooth either. His parents’ relationship had been tumultuous and they were still figuring things out. It had been difficult for him to make friends because of his shyness. His years through school had not been easy by any means.
He knew why he’d been attracted to boxing—because he’d always been the scrawny kid who was easy to bully.
He remembered the exact moment when he’d decided that he wasn’t going to let any of that hold him back though—hiding behind the school, afraid to walk home, physically fine but verbally cut to pieces because he looked different that all the other kids. He’d known then that if he didn’t fight for himself no one else would.
So he’d pursued this career with blind ambition. Putting his literal blood, sweat, anger, fear—and on the hardest of days, his tears—into becoming stronger. More confident.
He was barely holding onto the weight needed to maintain his lightweight status, which meant that each fighter he took on that was bigger than him was even more of a challenge. But there was no way he was going to drop down a weight class. He could do this. He would fight for it just like he had everything else in his life.
Everything, that is, except for the man who was currently rummaging through Zayn’s icebox pulling out two bottles of sports drink and casting Zayn a brilliant smile as he chucked a chilled bottle across the room to him. When Zayn caught the drink with ease, Liam winked at him and gave that heart-stopping grin that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.
Was this guy for real?
Zayn shook his head in disbelief.
It had all been so easy. Liam had fit into his life effortlessly. Six months they’d been together now, in a long distance relationship that felt stronger every day, instead of diminishing because of the hardships. Even Zayn’s coming out had been thoroughly uneventful. Mostly due to how easy it was to love Liam.
Zayn froze in place.
Fuck.
Love?
Where had that thought come from?
Was he falling in love with Liam?
Zayn’s head spun with the implications and he could hear Liam chattering on about something, but Zayn was checked the fuck out. He stumbled to his couch and dropped onto it, the word lovericocheting through his brain, fuzzing everything out like a heavyweight hook to the jaw.
Then Liam was leaning over him, his hand on Zayn’s cheek, his soulful brown eyes narrowed, studying Zayn cautiously.
“What did you say?” Zayn managed to croak out.
“You sure you didn’t get hit in the head one too many times today?” Liam asked with genuine concern.
Right. Of course. Because Liam fucking puppy dog Payne would be the one to care about Zayn’s welfare first and foremost.
“Are you real?” Zayn whispered, quite sure he was staring at the man in front of him in complete awe and disbelief.
Liam took a step back and patted his pockets then pulled out his phone. “You’re freaking me out, Zee,” Liam said as he punched in his password and started scrolling through his contacts.
“Who are you calling?” Zayn asked, trying to figure out why Liam felt this was the time to call anyone. Yes, this was a full on red alert, defcon fucking five, a nuclear bomb dropped directly into his cerebellum, but who could Liam possibly call that could diffuse the explosion of stark reality battering around in Zayn’s head?
“Louis,” Liam answered definitively as he dropped to his knees in front of Zayn and put a reassuring hand on Zayn’s thigh.
Zayn’s focus snapped back to the realization that Liam was worried the sparring session today had knocked a couple connections loose in Zayn’s head.
Ha! Maybe it had, but definitely not for the reasons that had Liam frantically flipping through his phone.
Zayn placed his hand on the phone and took it from Liam then forced out a laugh. “I’m fine. Just a little thrown…”
Liam looked up at him, hesitated for only a moment, then smiled and nodded his head. “By how easy tonight was.”
That wasn’t exactly what he was going to say, but sure. This he could work with.
“Yeah. I guess, yeah.” He gave a solemn nod that he hoped didn’t betray the deeper emotions still swirling uncontrollably in his head.
Liam pushed up from the floor, gave Zayn a kiss on the cheek, and dropped onto the couch next to him. He plucked the bottle out of Zayn’s hands and twisted the cap off before handing it back.
Zayn looked between the open bottle and Liam.
The bottle, then Liam.
Liam’s damn beautiful eyes and lips pursed in concern, and then at that motherfucking bottle that Liam had opened for Zayn because he knew Zayn drank one of these every night before he went to bed.
Liam was gracious, thoughtful, caring, funny, fit, flexible, okay really flexible, he made Zayn smile more than he ever had in his life and…
Shit.
He really was in love with him.
“Me, too, Zayn,” Liam said and Zayn’s head whipped around.
He hadn’t said that out loud had he?
Liam slung an arm around Zayn’s shoulder and placed one small kiss on Zayn’s collarbone. “I honestly didn’t expect your dad to be as cool as he was with it all.”
Zayn expelled one long breath. They were talking about his parents. Right.
Not about being in love.
Nope.
Definitely not that.
The choked laugh that came out of Zayn’s throat was decidedly less than attractive. He put the bottle to his lips and took a desperate swig of the liquid to buy himself some time.
But Liam just continued on, seemingly oblivious to Zayn’s epiphany. “I’m sure your mum talked to him beforehand. You thought she knew, so maybe…” Liam’s words dropped off and Zayn ventured a glance to see why Liam had stopped.
Liam pointed at the now empty bottle in Zayn’s hand. Zayn hadn’t even realized he’d downed the entire thing.
“You want another one?” Liam offered.
Zayn found himself grinning stupidly at his boyfriend.
Fuck it.
So he was in love with the most amazing, charming man on the planet. Possibly the kindest man to ever exist. And he hadn’t had to fight for Liam for that to be possible. But what was so wrong with that?
Maybe, for once, he was being handed something without having to take it by sheer force of will.
Or maybe everything he’d been fighting for—and against—for so many years was meant to lead to this moment. To this beautiful man.
Zayn set the empty bottle on the table next to the couch and then crawled onto Liam’s lap, fitting his thighs solidly against Liam’s hips and placing his palms on Liam’s chest.
“Yeah. I want another one. But after,” he replied, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth.
“After?” Liam asked, then started to blush. “Right. After.”
Zayn leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Liam’s shy responding smile. Zayn kissed Liam’s cheeks, one at a time, and then down his jaw. Liam craned his neck and Zayn continued down, nipping his teeth into the taut muscles.
“I can’t come,” Zayn whispered against Liam’s skin. “I need that nervous energy for tomorrow.” Zayn drew back and locked eyes with Liam. “But you… you don’t have to fight tomorrow.”
Liam’s pupils dilated, the black swallowing that rich shade of brown. “Fuck,” Liam breathed out. “How do you… how do you want to do it? How do you want me?”
Zayn gave a feral grin. He loved when he made Liam so unhinged that the man couldn’t help but let those swear words just tumble right out of his mouth without thought.
Zayn arched his back and thrust their groins together. “Maybe like this.” He moved against Liam slowly, sensuously, rolling his hips, drawing them together, feeling Liam harden beneath him.
Liam gripped onto Zayn’s hips and forced them together harshly. “I could be into that.”
Liam’s voice was low, almost a growl, and the sound kicked Zayn’s desire into overdrive.
Zayn nearly tore the t-shirt off Liam’s chest and over his head then desperately fumbled with the button of Liam’s jeans as he leaned down and fused their mouths together, licking at Liam’s eager lips as they opened for him. Liam moaned when Zayn finally popped the button and grasped Liam’s cock. Liam reached for the button on Zayn’s jeans and tore it open with one practiced flick of his fingers, then dove his hand under the thick fabric.
Zayn hissed at the contact and broke away from the kiss, dragging in ragged breaths and forcing back the powerful need to thrust into Liam’s hand.
He could do this.
Hecoulddothishecoulddothis…
Fuuucckk.
Liam was right here. So close. Warm, wanting.
And Zayn knew what we needed, but it was going to take every fucking ounce of that self-control beaten into him over years of training to do this without coming.
But he had to.
His chest ached with the desire; with the need to worship this man, to see him come apart under Zayn’s hands. To claim him. To show Liam just how much he was loved even if Zayn wasn’t ready to say the words quite yet.
Zayn pulled Liam’s hands off of him with a pained sigh and sat back on Liam’s thighs as he locked eyes with his lover. “I can’t stand it, Li. I need to fuck you.”
Liam shook his head. “Zayn. Shit. If you can’t come…”
Zayn took in a deep breath. Focused. “I can do it. Just let me,” he nearly begged. “Please. I need to be inside you.”
“Okay,” Liam said hoarsely and Zayn watched him swallow thickly. “Yeah, of course,” Liam repeated, his voice stronger this time.
Zayn nearly jumped off of Liam’s lap and held out his hand to his boyfriend. Liam grinned and took the offered hand.
“The bedroom, yeah? That’s different,” Liam teased.
Zayn chuffed in reply. Liam was right to tease, it wasn’t often they had enough control to make it to the bed. Or come to think of it, a comfortable surface of any kind. They were usually going too hard and fast to make it much further than past the front door. Or while he was showering. Or on the kitchen counter. Or over the coffee table.
“I want to do this the proper way,” Zayn said as he urged Liam to walk a bit faster.
“Kind of hard to walk with my jeans nearly around my ankles,” Liam deadpanned.
“Shut up,” Zayn replied with an affectionate smile, then swung Liam around and pushed him gently onto the bed.
Liam bounced a couple times, but Zayn didn’t wait to tug at the hems of Liam’s jeans and pull them cleanly off in one swoop, then losing his own kit just as quickly. He made a gesture for Liam to scoot up the bed then climbed onto the mattress, settling on his knees between Liam’s legs.
Zayn put his palms on the inside of Liam’s thighs and Liam’s head dropped onto the pillow in defeat. Liam’s body tensed under Zayn’s touch then went slack as Zayn massaged the muscles. Zayn licked his lips, scooted closer, then enveloped Liam’s cock in his mouth, eliciting a rough growl from Liam. He had to brace his hand on Liam’s hip to keep him from arching off the bed as he took Liam deep.
Zayn slid his tongue up and down the soft skin, swirled his tongue around the head, and then took the entire length into his mouth, then throat, his lips barely able to fit around the impressive width. Liam let loose a torrent of swear words as he bucked into Zayn’s mouth and Zayn immediately backed off. Liam was so close, but this wasn’t how he wanted Liam to come.
Zayn didn’t top often—didn’t want to most of the time—but with Liam there was something wickedly hot about dominating that long, willing body. Liam watched with fevered eyes as Zayn kissed the hollow between Liam’s cock and his hip.
“Fuck, Zayn. I want to touch you so badly,” Liam ground out. “I don’t know if I can do this. I want to see you come. Fuck. I want to see your hot come spread all over my stomach.”
Zayn smiled and made a tsk tsk noise as he swiped his tongue up Liam’s dick one more time then went for the nightstand drawer.
“No touching, Li,” Zayn commanded in a soft voice.
Liam fisted his hands in the sheets and dropped his head back onto the pillow. Liam’s hips pumped up and down as if he couldn’t control the movement. As if he was seeking out contact, seeking out Zayn’s body.
Liam was teetering on that edge of control—Zayn could see him fighting it. His body was slick with a sheen of sweat, his chest heaving. Zayn could even see the hammering of Liam’s heart in the veins that stood out on Liam’s neck as he tried to keep still.
Liam was waiting for Zayn—he needed Zayn just as much as Zayn needed him—and Zayn wasn’t going to hold off any longer.
He grabbed lube and a condom from the drawer. He slipped the condom on, coating it with the slippery liquid then slicked his own fingers. He teased just at the edges of Liam’s hole, circling around it as he stroked Liam’s cock with his other hand. Liam’s eyes were clamped shut, his mouth open, his needy moans filling the air.
Just the sight of Liam so undone was enough to make Zayn achingly hard. Liam was normally so relaxed, so chill, that to see him this jacked up, this desperate, made Zayn feel powerful.
He slipped one finger inside Liam then another one, fucking Liam open.
Liam pushed himself down, driving Zayn’s fingers deeper inside him, and Zayn knew the sensation had to be one of burning, and of pain building, cresting, and then slamming into all-consuming waves of pleasure.
He’d barely removed his fingers before he put his cock to Liam’s hole and began to press inside. He sped the grip of his fist on Liam’s cock even as he worked slowly—painfully, balls-achingly slow—inside his lover. The competing sensations had Liam bucking against him, trying to force Zayn’s cock deeper inside him. But Zayn just threw Liam’s leg over his shoulder and kept at the torturous slide.
Liam was so tight, so warm, his body laid out for Zayn’s use, his hands moving from the sheets to gripping the headboard behind him. Zayn took one last deep breath—he could do this—and slammed into Liam’s ass, angling Liam’s hips so that Zayn was pounding into him at that perfect spot. Liam’s knuckles were white where he kept a death grip on the metal frame and his biceps flexed, his cut abs tensing and releasing as Zayn drove into him hard.
Zayn knew Liam didn’t have much longer. But his control was starting to unravel, too. He could feel the heat building in his core, and spreading through his veins. But he wouldn’t come. He could do this.
“Fuck, Li. You’re so beautiful laid out like this,” he praised Liam, the words catching in his throat, the raw emotion of the moment overtaking him. His chest constricted and he knew it was because he was fighting for breath, but it was also more. That warmth and that ache and that need—all of it was his love for Liam. He knew that now and couldn’t figure out why it had taken him this long to put it all together.
He circled his palm over the head of Liam’s cock and drove inside him harder, slower, and deeper until Liam’s body tensed and exploded, Liam’s come coating his hand, an unrestrained moan pulled from Liam’s lungs, and Zayn pulled out immediately and collapsed onto the bed next to Liam.
“Sorry. Fuck. I couldn’t stay inside you. If I did… God, there was no fucking way I could have controlled that,” Zayn apologized in a rushed breath.
When Liam didn’t answer Zayn turned his head and glanced at him warily. He worried for a moment that he’d hurt Liam somehow with how rough he’d been, but as he surveyed the sweat-slicked body next to him, Liam’s arm thrown over his eyes and a tired smile tugging at Liam’s reddened lips—he knew Liam was okay.
Fucked nearly into oblivion and probably only minutes away from collapsing in sated exhaustion, but definitely okay.
Zayn grinned and planted a soft kiss on Liam’s pec. Liam shivered in response and tried to swat Zayn away.
“That was intense,” Liam finally said in a ragged voice.
“Yeah,” was the only suitable reply Zayn could come up with. He could feel his heartbeat in his own cock, the pulsating of it, still so fucking hard and at full attention. Zayn winced as he pulled the condom off the overly sensitive skin and tossed the latex into the trash can next to the bed.
Liam removed the arm over his eyes and ventured a glance down to Zayn’s dick. “God, that looks painful. Are you sure you don’t want me to…?”
Zayn gave a near hysterical laugh and made a no thank you motion with his hand. He didn’t even try to open his mouth and answer, because what was likely to come out would be a Yes, fucking touch me now!
Liam had no idea how uncomfortable Zayn was; how much his body just screamed for the need to come. But he wasn’t going to do it. The frustration and sheer instinctual desire to end the fight so he could have Liam fuck him into submission would be enough motivation to make for a quick, decisive victory.
“I think I may have a new pre-fight ritual,” Zayn said as he pressed the heel of his hand against his painfully hard cock, willing it to go down.
“Yeah, I’m up for that,” Liam laughed. “Give me like one more minute to make sure my legs are still connected to my body then I’ll get you another sports drink,” Liam offered.
That delicious ache in Zayn’s chest spread, warming him, calming him, and taking the edge off. “Thanks.”
Liam sat up, pushed off the bed and took a couple wobbly steps.
“Hey, Li,” Zayn called out.
Liam rested his hand on the door jamb and turned. “Yeah?”
The corner of Zayn’s lip curved into a sideways smile. There was so much he wanted to say to Liam in that moment—how beautiful he looked, how he was even more stunning on the inside, how he was thankful Liam was there with him on the eve of his fight, and well, how much he was completely and utterly in love with him—but all of that could wait for another time when neither of them were quite as brain scrambled. So instead he said, “You’re pretty amazing, you know that, yeah?”
Liam ducked his head and began to blush. He rested his cheek on the doorframe and lifted his eyes to Zayn as he replied,”Likewise, Zee.”
Liam gave another shy smile then pushed off the door and into the kitchen.
Not even the pain of his still half-hard cock could wipe the responding smile off his face.
There was definitely nothing wrong with being in love with Liam Payne.
Chapter Five
“I want to learn how to take a punch.”
Zayn’s head snapped up and his trainer Connor had to pull Zayn’s hand back into his when Zayn nearly popped out of his seat in surprise. He hadn’t heard Liam right, had he?
“You what?” Zayn asked.
Liam leaned against the wall of the locker room and crossed his arms. “I’ve never been in a fight. Never had any cause to. I want to see how it’s done. You know, the proper way.” Liam winked, obviously alluding to Zayn’s comment last night that had resulted in him fucking Liam rather properly into the mattress.
Zayn spared a glance to his trainer who was working at securing Zayn’s gloves. Connor appeared oblivious to the entire conversation. Zayn felt a blush crawling up his cheeks and answered, “You’re about to see how it’s done the proper way.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Liam challenged. “I want to do it. Feel what it’s like to be hit.”
Zayn shook his head. “I can’t hit you, Li.”
“But I can,” Connor cut in.
Zayn lifted an eyebrow and looked to Liam.
Well this could be interesting.
Liam surveyed Connor—who was easily two stone bigger than Liam—and shrugged his shoulders. “Right then. Let’s do this.”
Connor tapped at Zayn’s gloves and gave a slow smile that Liam wouldn’t be able to see with Connor’s back to him. “These feel okay?” Connor asked Zayn, probably buying Liam time to back out of this asinine idea gracefully.
Zayn nodded then when Liam didn’t say anything else, he looked at Connor and cocked his head toward Liam. “The man said he wants you to hit him.”
Connor cracked his knuckles and stood up to face Liam.
Zayn had to give his boyfriend credit, he didn’t even back up when Connor pulled himself to his full intimidating height.
“This is a bad idea, Li,” Zayn laughed. Despite Connor’s massive size, Zayn wasn’t worried. He knew the man was practiced enough to take it easy on Liam without making it look like he was pulling his punches.
Liam just grinned in reply and rolled his shoulders. “How do I stand?”
Connor ran through a quick lesson, positioning Liam into a fighting stance and showing him how to put his hands into a fist that wouldn’t break his thumb with the impact. Zayn sat back and watched them, completely intrigued with where this idea had come from. Liam had been visiting him at the gym for six months and had never once expressed an interest in fighting.
“I don’t get it. Why this? Why now?” Zayn asked.
“Lou said—,” Liam started.
“Lou?” Zayn interrupted, his voice jumping up an octave. “Please tell me you did not call him Lou.”
Liam smirked and Connor mumbled something about Liam being batshite crazy.
Zayn shook his head in disbelief. “Well now we need to teach you how to take a punch out of sheer survival.”
“Lou’s all bark,” Liam said as he pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows.
Zayn pointed a gloved hand at him. “I’m not sure we’re talking about the same person here. You do mean my illustrious manager the Louis Tomlinson? Louis “the English Bulldog” Tomlinson?”
“As if there were any other,” Connor muttered.
Zayn couldn’t believe his ears. Louis really did like Liam if he hadn’t taken the man down just for using that nickname. “He’s going to murder you if you keep calling him Lou,” Zayn warned him.
“Then let’s get this lesson going,” Liam said without a hint of a smirk.
Zayn stood and crossed to the treadmill starting it up so he could keep his body warm. “Now you have me curious, though. What did our dear Louis tell you?”
Liam got into the fighting stance and put up his fists. He was focused on watching Connor now, but he still answered, “He said that boxing was more about the ability to get up than it was to stay standing.”
Zayn watched as Connor circled around Liam, his shoulders twitching, his feet much lighter and faster than Liam’s awkward steps, trying to keep up with Connor.
“I suppose that’s true,” Zayn admitted. “But please tell me how the fuck that translates into you wanting to learn how to take a punch.”
Liam glanced at Zayn, his lips pursed with focus. “I don’t actually know.” Liam cocked his head in Connor’s direction. “Thinking you’re right though, that this may have been a bad idea.”
Zayn barked out a laugh and Connor chose that exact moment to let his fist fly catching Liam directly on the jaw and snapping his head back.
Liam stumbled and let out an uncharacteristic motherfucker that only made Zayn laugh harder. Connor shrugged his shoulders and looked at Zayn.
Zayn tipped his head toward his trainer, silently thanking him for taking it easy on Liam.
And even though Liam was now hunched over, his jaw working in a circular motion testing his pain level, Zayn could tell that Connor’s punch had been the lightest the huge man was capable of.
“You okay there, Payne?” Zayn teased.
Liam stood up, pulled his shoulders back and gave a half-hearted wave in Zayn’s direction. “Yeah, of course.” Then he took a step and tipped to the side a bit before righting himself.
Zayn got off the treadmill and crossed the room, placing a gentle kiss on Liam’s jaw. “That was really sexy to watch,” he offered to try and eliminate some of the likely crushing of Liam’s pride.
Liam started to grin then flinched in pain. “You’re a fucking warrior. That shit hurts,” he confessed.
Zayn chuckled and leaned in to give Liam another kiss when the door to the room flew open.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” Louis mused as he surveyed the spot where Liam was gingerly touching his jaw.
Louis was dressed in a flawless black suit, the jacket unbuttoned and the collar of his white dress shirt open at the top, revealing the scroll work of a tattoo on his chest. He clapped his hands together. “It’s time, tornado.”
Zayn shook his head adamantly. “No. I’m not taking the name tornado.”
“Thunder?” Louis ventured with a twist of his lip.
“No,” Zayn replied without even giving the name consideration.
“Come on,” Louis said extending his arms in a help me out here gesture.
“What are you two on about?” Liam asked as Connor handed him an ice pack.
“Your boy here doesn’t have a nickname. All the best boxers do. He keeps dismissing all my brilliant ideas,” Louis explained. “Killer?”
Zayn groaned. “Veto.”
“I’ll come up with something irresistible eventually,” Louis said with surety. He put his hands on his hips. “You ready?”
Zayn gave a clipped nod.
He was more than ready. He could feel himself dropping into his fighting headspace with Louis’ words. Sorenson was a fucking joke. And Zayn was going to prove that in three rounds or less.
Liam leaned his forehead against Zayn’s. “Hey, beat the shit out of this guy, okay?”
Zayn nodded, that new but familiar warmth spreading through him, grounding him further. Liam lifted Zayn’s gloved hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss on both of them and then one on Zayn’s lips. “I’ll see you after the fight,” he added then left the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a definitive click.
Zayn’s face became an emotionless mask. He clapped his gloves together and bounded from foot to foot, sinking deeper into his head, tossing away every thought except for the movement of his body and the rhythm of his breaths.
He barely registered Connor opening the door and Louis leading him out into the hallway leading to the arena.
Oh yeah, he was ready.
Chapter Six
Liam’s phone rang as soon as he exited Zayn’s locker room. Liam pulled it from his pocket and rolled his eyes when he saw who was calling, but decided to pick up anyway. He could use the distraction from the fear starting to churn in his gut about watching Zayn really fight this time.
He took the ice pack from his face, and tossed it in a bin as he passed down the hallway leading to the seats.
“What do you want, Harry?” Liam stated without greeting the friend who had taken over his classes while he was in Scotland for the fight.
“I can’t find my zen place, Li,” Harry said with matter-of-factness, as if it was comparable to losing his keys.
Liam gave a frustrated huff into the phone. If he even attempted to get into this discussion Harry was never going to let Liam get off the phone. “I’m at the fight,” he reminded Harry. “It’s about to start.”
“But Leeeeyuuum,” Harry slowly drawled out.
Liam could just picture Harry—probably sitting in the lotus position, Enya playing softly in the background, a carton of candles lit around him, hunched in defeat because he couldn’t find the proper state of meditation.
Liam saw Zayn’s parents standing by the entrance to the seats and waved to them, then held up a finger to let them know he needed a minute.
Liam rolled his eyes. “Hazza. I need you to chill. Drink some beetroot and kale juice or something. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“But—,” Harry whined and Liam hung up the phone as he approached Zayn’s parents.
“Sorry, just some yoga business,” he apologized.
Trisha gave a concerned look. “Everything all right at Bliss You?”
Liam nodded. Besides the very real risk of Harry setting the whole studio on fire with his excessive use of candles, Harry was harmless. “Fine. The instructor filling my classes this weekend is a bit new. Green. And a tad too hippie. Nothing to be concerned about, though. Let’s go on then. I want to get to our seats before Zayn comes in.”
They passed through the VIP entrance and emerged into the arena. Multi-colored lights circled the packed seats, and an electronica beat emanated from the stadium speakers. Liam couldn’t take his eyes off the ring though. It looked massive in comparison to the one he’d watched Zayn train in for the last six months. It was raised high above the seats, lit in full spotlight, empty, and yet terrifying somehow.
Trisha grabbed ahold of Liam’s arm and led him to seats about ten rows back from the ring. Zayn had asked if they wanted ringside and Trisha had insisted the view was better a bit further back, so that’s where Zayn had placed them. And at that moment he appreciated her foresight, realizing that ringside seats were well within blood spatter range. The judges table was set up on dais next to the ring and television cameras were placed throughout the stadium, rotating in place, filming the expectant audience, whose collective volume just seemed to increase as fight time drew closer.
The announcer stepped into the ring. He didn’t approach the microphone quite yet, instead speaking to someone leaning over the judges table—a blonde man in a blue short-sleeved dress shirt, with a black bow tie, and black trousers. The man appeared to answer the announcer then climbed into the ring.
“You got to fuckin’ kiddin’ meh,” a Scottish voice came from behind them. “Horan ’s reffin’ the match? Horan the Irish? This match ’s bolloxed before it e’en begins.”
“Hey! Shut it down,” Yaser said as he twisted in his seat to face the man. “Horan is the best ref in lightweight boxing today. Every fight. Sorenson will go down tonight based on his own merits. Or lack thereof as is the case. Stop complaining like a petulant child and let the professionals do their job.”
Liam’s eyes widened, preparing for an outright brawl before the fight even started, but the man huffed and sat back in his seat. Yaser rolled his eyes and Trisha patted his arm fondly. Liam found himself overwhelmingly grateful that Zayn’s coming out had gone as smoothly as it had.
“Who’s the ref?” Liam whispered to Trisha.
“Bloke named Niall,” Trisha explained. “Irish, as the loud mouth behind us said. He and Zayn are mates of some sort. Drinking buddies when Zayn isn’t training.”
Liam scrunched his eyebrows together. “That’s not unethical?”
Trisha shrugged. “Niall is honest and the organizers know that. He’ll call it as he sees it. Make sure it’s a clean fight.”
Just then the lights in the arena clicked off, all except for the spotlight over the ring and one that was trained on a door to the side of the stadium where Liam could see Sorenson surrounded by his entourage. The speakers boomed with a death metal track that set Liam’s teeth on edge and made his ears feel like they were going to bleed. And it took way too long for Sorenson to make his way to the ring, the song thudding and screeching on seemingly endlessly as an almost equal chorus of polite cheers and raucous boos went up from the spectators.
Sorenson ducked under the ropes and took his place in the ring. He was a ball of perpetual movement, cracking his neck, flexing his shoulders. He looked confident. Cocky. Arrogant, really. And Liam couldn’t wait to see Zayn take him down.
Then the announcer crooned Zayn’s name, drawing out the last syllables of Malik until the sound was lost to the roar of the crowd. Even though Zayn wasn’t from Scotland, he was still the hometown hero as this had been his training facility and home for almost seven years now. Liam had to crane his neck to find the doorway where the spotlight shone down on Zayn. He was covered in a black terrycloth robe, the hood pulled over his head, his red gloves standing out against the dark fabric.
Liam sucked in a breath, hadn’t realized that he had stopped breathing at all. His mind was a mess of pride, fear, and being wickedly turned on all at the same time. The whole thing was surreal. Yes, he’d known Zayn was a professional boxer, but until this moment that reality had existed more in theory and the vague memories of boxing movies one of his ex-boyfriends had loved to watch.
But the sight of Zayn standing like a warrior surrounded by his trainers, Louis at his side with a patented sneer painted across his face, and the thousands of people in that stadium cheering his name… This was just insanity.
And Liam loved it.
Liam shot to his feet and started clapping, joining in with Trisha, Yaser, the other cheering spectators as Zayn’s fight song blared over the speakers. The rhythmic hip-hop beat and sensual melody were immediately identifiable to Liam even before he heard the seductive voice of Ray J begging to hit it from the front and hit it from the back.
“What is that?” Trisha yelled in his ear above the thundering crowd.
“Sexy Can I by Ray J,” Liam answered with an unrestrained smile.
“Kids,” Trisha teased with a shake of her head.
Liam watched as Zayn emerged from the tunnel, his face still hidden from view by the hood. His body moved with the music and he appeared to be completely unaffected by the hands that groped at him as he made his way to the ring. Then Zayn stopped and with a theatrical flourish ripped the hood off his head, and blew a kiss to the spectators with his gloved hand. Liam had thought there was no way it could get any louder in the arena, but Zayn’s fans went nuts, the stadium floor shaking from the cheering.
The robe was lifted off Zayn’s shoulders, revealing the black ink of Zayn’s tattoos on his golden skin, already shining with a fine sheen of sweat. Zayn passed under the ropes and blew more kisses into the audience as his music cut off.
Liam could see the change in Zayn immediately. He went from performer to predator in one heartbeat, his face shutting down all emotion, the muscles of his jaw straining as Louis stepped up to him and whispered something in his ear. Zayn nodded and Louis clapped him on the shoulder then exited the ring. Zayn’s trainers fed him sips of water and kept talking to him. Zayn’s back was to Sorenson. Not once had he even acknowledged the other fighter, while Sorenson stood across the ring glaring daggers at Zayn’s back.
A hush fell over the stadium and Horan stepped up to the mike calling both fighters to the center.
Zayn stretched his neck, nodded one time to Connor who placed the mouthguard into Zayn’s mouth. Then it was only Horan, Zayn, and Sorenson in the ring.
Zayn and Sorenson approached each other, each staring the other down. They appeared to be nearly evenly matched in weight and height, but Liam knew from Zayn that Sorenson was just over an inch shorter. Which Zayn had confidently told Liam was all the advantage that he needed.
They tapped gloves when they met in the center and Horan went through the rules. Liam was sure that neither of them was really hearing anything the ref said. Liam sure wasn’t at this point. He was holding his breath, waiting for that opening bell. Dreading how imminent it was and yet excited to finally see Zayn in action.
The fighters tapped gloves one more time and Sorenson said something to Zayn that had fire flashing in Zayn’s eyes, then they were moving back into their respective corners.
“Well this will end quickly,” Yaser definitively announced when he caught sight of the fury in Zayn’s face.
Horan made a sweeping gesture and the bell rang. Zayn and Sorenson stepped closer together, circling each other, then Sorenson surged forward, going in for a right hook that Zayn easily danced his way out of and landed a punch on Sorenson’s shoulder as he stumbled away.
A collective gasp went up from the crowd, then cheers, as Zayn turned and landed another shot across Sorenson’s ribs. Liam’s hands were balled into fists, his nerves completely on edge as he waited for Sorenson to land his first punch on Zayn. And when it came seconds later, Liam had to grip his chair to keep from surging to his feet as Sorenson finally connected that right hook and Zayn’s head snapped back.
Sorenson used Zayn’s momentary instability to land a combination into Zayn’s side, then his left arm. Zayn took the hits without flinching. He shook his head, the sweat from his brow flicking off to the mat, and squared his shoulders.
Liam gritted his teeth, his jaw protesting with the movement. He had no idea how Zayn could take one hit, let alone punch after punch and remain standing, but he was doing it. In fact, he looked stronger than he had when he’d entered the ring fresh.
“I don’t know how you can just sit there and watch him take a hit like that,” Liam said as he turned toward Zayn’s mum.
Trisha grinned. “If you’d known Zayn as a child you would understand. He’s stronger now than he ever has been.”
“But it’s so violent,” Liam protested. “Doesn’t it just physically hurt you to see him get hit? The way he takes those punches? Over and over again. Yes, he can move. Yes, he has so much power. But that beautiful body. He spends so much time perfecting it, just to see it pummeled, driven back, hard—” Liam swallowed thickly, found his words drifting off as he watched Zayn’s sweat covered body dance around that ring and realized just how turned on he was getting. As he was sitting next to Zayn’s mum.
How awkward.
Trisha quirked an eyebrow.
Liam turned a bright shade of red. “And his face. It’s so, um, symmetrical.”
Trisha nodded seriously and patted his arm. “Symmetrical. Of course, dear. I’m sure his symmetrywill be just fine after a suitable recovery time.”
Both Liam and Zayn were rescued by the bell announcing the end of Round One. The fighters retreated to their corners and the capable hands of their trainers, who wiped the sweat off their brows and applied vaseline to cuts. Even though Zayn nodded his head while the trainers talked to him, his focus never left Sorenson.
Zayn’s eyes were dark, his features sharp. Liam could see the twitch of his muscles as if he was imaging the moves he would make during the next round in his head. A final squirt of water was shot into Zayn’s mouth and he spit it back out, then opened for the trainer to reinsert his mouthguard.
Horan motioned the fighters toward the center of the ring again and the bell for Round Two rang out. This time they circled around each other for a longer time, testing the distance between them, as if they were playing with each other instead of in a real fight, before gradually moving in closer. Zayn went in for a combination and Sorenson wrapped him up, keeping Zayn’s arms pinned to his side. Horan yelled at them, pulling them apart. Sorenson’s back was to Liam and Liam could see Zayn perfectly, advancing on the other boxer steadily. Zayn sneered, his lips tipping up and his eyes narrowing and Liam could feel Zayn’s confidence explode, like a living, breathing third fighter in the ring. Liam swore he only blinked, a fraction of a second nothing more, then Zayn’s right hand was swinging in a powerful uppercut that caught Sorenson square in the jaw. Sorenson’s head snapped back, his arms went loose at his side, and his whole body gave in, falling on the mat with a resounding thud.
The arena erupted as Horan knelt over Sorenson’s unmoving body and waved the trainers into the ring.
“Is it over?” someone asked, then Liam realized he’d been the one to say it.
Trisha looked at him with that same brilliant smile Zayn possessed and said, “Damn straight it is.”
Liam’s jaw dropped and relief flooded him. Then disbelief, then happiness, then pride, then disbelief again when it looked like for a split second that Sorenson may be regaining consciousness. But the trainers quickly shook their heads and conferred with Horan who then stepped out of the ring and up to the judges table.
Liam felt like he was watching the drama unfold in slow motion. It may have been only minutes that had passed by since Zayn had thrown that punch, but it felt like ten lifetimes. If the stress on his heart was any measure, then it may as well have been.
Liam studied Zayn where he stood in the corner, his chest still heaving, his face being wiped of blood and bandaged. Louis stood outside the ring talking to Zayn, the shit-eating grin on his face enough of an indication that Zayn had won the fight with a knock out.
Holy shit.
Zayn had won.
It was then that Zayn turned and found Liam in the seats. His right cheekbone was swollen and turning black, and he had a cut above his left eye that the trainers were still attempting to stave the bleeding on, but Liam had never seen him look more powerful. More sure of himself. More beautiful.
Zayn smiled slowly when he saw that Liam was looking back at him. His bottom lip was split and Liam knew it had to be painful to even make the motion, but his eyes were shining. Then Zayn tipped his head and winked, and Liam stopped breathing.
Zayn’s trainer grabbed his chin and pulled his face back around to continue working on his cuts, but that moment could never be taken away. What Liam had seen on Zayn’s face in that second had been… love?
Liam felt his heart racing, his pulse picking up. He swore he could feel every atom of air that passed into his lungs, every subtle beat of his heart, every nerve within him lighting at the same time, as if Zayn had flicked a switch within him that he didn’t even know existed, bringing him fully and truly alive.
“You okay, Li?” Trisha asked, placing a hand on his arm.
Liam kept watching Zayn and chuckled. “Yeah,” he answered with an air of wonder. “Really, really okay.”
“Looks like he’s okay, too,” Yaser interjected, pointing to the ring.
The trainers had been replaced with medics who were monitoring Sorenson’s condition, but Sorenson himself was awake and moving. Liam watched as Zayn seemed to catch on to the change in his opponent and crossed the ring. He spoke to one of the medics then leaned down over Sorenson and extended his hand. Sorenson appeared not to have enough strength to shake Zayn’s hand, so Zayn took it between both of his, said something else then returned to his corner.
The medics quickly secured Sorenson to a gurney and lifted him out of the ring, while the audience stood to recognize him.
Such brutality then such civility. Liam didn’t quite get it, but he couldn’t help but respect it.
Then Horan was jumping back into the ring with the announcer and Louis was climbing in as well with a representative from the boxing federation. They all congregated in Zayn’s corner, smiling and laughing and clapping Zayn on the back.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer nearly purred into the microphone. “Your winner tonight by total knock out—Zayn Maaaalllliiiiiiikk!”
The arena erupted into applause and cat-calls as everyone stood. Horan lifted Zayn’s left arm as a sign of his victory and Zayn pumped his right fist in the air in celebration, that brilliant smile and those gold-green eyes shining in the spotlight.
Trisha was practically vibrating in place at this point.
“Go on then,” Yaser said with a knowing smile, “tell him you love him.”
Trisha jumped up and down and started clapping and cheering, then yelled, “That’s my baby boy!”
Zayn turned at the sound of his mother’s voice and blew her a kiss as she wildly waved to him from the seats.
Liam would have been embarrassed, if he hadn’t already decided that Trisha was one of the coolest mums in the world. Trisha nearly tackled Liam into a bear hug and Liam joined her in a screeching celebratory whistle, while Yaser just shook his head at the two of them.
Liam felt like he was on top of the world.
Zayn had won his fight, Yaser had accepted him with an ease that bowled him over, and Trisha held onto him with just as much affection as she showed her own son.
And maybe, possibly, Zayn had finally fallen as hard for him as he had for Zayn.
Liam pulled Trisha into another hug and kissed her head.
Who knew? Maybe one day she would prove to be one of the coolest mum-in-laws on the planet, too.
Chapter Seven
Zayn slumped onto his couch with a groan and winced in pain. He’d taken the requisite pain meds and iced every joint in his body, and yet it didn’t matter how many fights he had, he always forgot how much his body just fucking ached after a good bout.
Despite the fight only going into two rounds, Sorenson had been more of a challenge than he expected. Sorenson had gotten in a couple powerful blows that had Zayn rattled early on, unsure of whether or not he was going to be able to pull out a knock out by the third round. But there was one advantage Zayn hadn’t been expecting to come into play tonight that had been the deciding factor in his domination over Sorenson.
Zayn’s eyes tracked Liam around the apartment as he unpacked Zayn’s duffel, set his medication out, reading the labels twice and checking the clock before setting them in a perfect line on the counter, then going into the bedroom to change. Zayn dropped his head back against the couch and closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of Liam making himself home in his home.
It made him want it—to want Liam—around a hell of a lot more.
The couch dipped next to Zayn and he opened his eyes to find Liam perched on the other side. Zayn narrowed his eyes. Well, that was way too far away.
Zayn reached out for Liam, feeling the warmth of the pain meds slowing his movement but finally starting to take some of the edge off. “What are you doing all the way over there?”
Liam gently picked up Zayn’s hand and turned it over, studying the swollen digits. “I didn’t want to wake you,” Liam said as he pressed a kiss to each of Zayn’s fingertips.
“I don’t want to waste any time. You leave tomorrow,” Zayn replied with a frown.
“About that, if it’s okay with you I’m thinking about staying on a couple more days. Harry said he could take my classes until Wednesday.”
Zayn smiled and tugged on Liam’s hand urging him closer. “Good.”
But Liam easily slipped from Zayn’s weak grip and got up from the couch. “Let me make you something to eat. And you need water and a sports drink. Louis told me to make sure you drank enough water.”
Liam started for the kitchen but Zayn stopped him. “Not yet. Come here.”
Liam hesitated for a beat then tracked back to the couch, this time settling just a fraction closer to Zayn. Zayn didn’t know if it was the haze of his meds thrumming through his system that was making him read into things that weren’t there, but Liam seemed a bit distant. More careful, and not nearly as carefree as he usually was.
“How’s your jaw?” Zayn asked attempting to break through the unnamed tension.
Liam chuckled. “Are you serious, mate? You just went two rounds with one of the best lightweights in the world and you’re asking how my jaw is?”
“I like your jaw,” Zayn pretended to pout, trying to elicit a genuine smile from Liam.
Liam’s lips tipped up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“What is it?” Zayn probed, too worn down to attempt to decipher what Liam was thinking.
Liam seemed intent on staring at his hands and not answering Zayn, but Zayn wasn’t going to let whatever it was go that easily.
“Just tell me,” Zayn said more insistent this time. He felt a rush of fear about what Liam was going to say next. But he knew that whatever it was, he needed to hear it now. Liam had already said he was staying on for a couple extra days, so it couldn’t be that bad, could it?
Liam sighed then started talking. “Yesterday Lou told me that he would see if I still wanted to stick around after the fight. I told him I was going to be around for awhile so he better get used to me. I see now where he was going with that, though. You’re a different person in the ring. There’s this raw anger and violence that I can’t reconcile with the Zayn Malik I know. You’re a showman and a gladiator out there. While in here, when it’s just the two of us, you’re so quiet and thoughtful and silly.” Liam shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it out. But that’s not really the point of it. Or maybe it is? Sorry. I’m just a bit jumbled right now.”
Zayn sat up, his body protesting the sudden movement. Zayn flinched and Liam scooted further back on the couch. Zayn furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
Liam ran his fingers through his hair. “What happened in the fight, Zee? I saw you the moment before you took Sorenson down and you were wild. Not just angry, but vicious. Intent on taking him down. And I didn’t think much about it then, because I just chalked it off to what Lou had been warning me about. But after the fight I heard that ref laying into the guy from the boxing federation about sanctioning Sorenson for homophobic slurs and I started to put it together. Or maybe not. As I said, I’m just trying to have it all make sense.”
Zayn felt his heart clench. Even though that ignorant homophobic slur had been the fuel he needed to blaze right through Sorenson, it didn’t mean he’d ever wanted Liam to know about it. But there was no way he was going to lie to Liam about it either. “Before the fight started Sorenson called me a faggot corrupting the sport of boxing and that he was going to take me down just to prove that cocksuckers didn’t belong in his sport.”
Liam’s breath hitched and he looked away. Zayn’s heart ached with the pain he saw in Liam’s face. Those were words that could never be wiped from either of their memories once said out loud. Zayn would have given anything for Liam never to witness that level of hatred. Despite that slur being the motivation behind the definitive punch, Zayn would have given up this win never to see to that look on Liam’s face ever again.
Liam’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke, disbelief tinging his words. “How did you shake that man’s hand? How could you even bear to show him any measure of kindness?”
Zayn tipped his chin up. “Because he was wrong. I’m better than him. And I proved that in the ring, where it really matters.”
Liam shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He got what was coming to him.”
“It doesn’t make it right.”
“And it doesn’t change that he’s an ignorant asshole. There are a lot of them out there. But I’m not going to be somebody I’m not to make them all feel more comfortable. I’m going to live my life with honor and truth and with you at my side, because that makes me happy. You make me happy. And I’m going to show common decency to my enemy because, even though he was wrong, he is just as human as I am. That’s what matters.” Zayn reached out his hand again and beckoned for Liam. “Now please, just come here. I need to feel you next to me.”
Liam didn’t close the gap between them. “I don’t even want to touch you, Zee. You look just miserable. I’m afraid I’d just hurt you more.”
Zayn huffed in frustration. “Is this what you’re really worried about? Not what happened in the fight, but this? Hurting me? I don’t want you to be gentle, Li. Use me. Suck me, fuck me. Whatever. Just—,” Zayn sighed. Stopped himself from saying anymore.
It was so easy to go there with Liam. To lose himself in the physical desire. As much as he loved the passion they had between them, he wanted more. So it was time for him to lay it all on the line. Zayn took a deep breath and asked for the one thing he needed from Liam more than anything else right now. “Please, Liam. Just mark me as yours.”
“You’re covered in bruises and cuts,” Liam began to protest. “You’re already marked.”
“No, Li,” Zayn said as he pointed to his chest. To his heart beating out of control. “Mark me here. I am totally and completely and utterly in love with you and I want you to mark me as yours.” Zayn’s heartbeat thudded in his ears and Liam just stared at him, eyes wide, not saying anything.
Shit.
Had he just ruined everything?
Zayn’s stomach sank.
Then Liam was on him without warning, pulling Zayn into a protective embrace, and curling his head into the crook of Zayn’s neck. “Repeat that.”
“What?” Zayn sputtered.
Liam kissed the line of Zayn’s jaw then captured him in a possessive gaze. “I need to know that I didn’t just imagine you saying that. Repeat it. Please.”
“Which part? The use me?” Zayn teased, the tension immediately leaving his body.
Liam didn’t say anything, he just stared at Zayn and waited.
“I love you,” Zayn said with conviction. He felt his words and knew them to be truer than any he’d said before.
“I love you, too,” Liam replied, kissing Zayn on the corner of his lips. “God, so goddamn much it hurts, Zee.”
“I know,” Zayn said, curling his fingers around the back of Liam’s neck. “Everything good in life comes with pain. But this, Liam—us—we are worth that pain. Because in the end it brings us that much more joy.”
“That sounds like something I would say,” Liam teased. “You’ve been spending way too much time with me.”
“Yeah, I want it to be a lot more. If that’s okay with you.”
“Yes, Zayn. That’s really, really okay with me. In fact, I have a bit of a surprise for you if you’re open to it.”
Zayn looked at Liam with suspicion. “Why am I worried?”
“Because you know I hate surprises,” Liam offered. “Just trust me, yeah?”
Zayn grinned widely. Liam may have hated surprises, but Zayn absolutely fucking loved them.
Chapter Eight
Zayn closed his eyes and let the steam envelop him, slicking his skin, weighing hot and heavy in his lungs as he took deep cleansing breaths. The tile beneath his naked body was slippery with the same condensation—but Zayn wasn’t going anywhere.
Liam had his hands gripped tightly around Zayn’s hips as he bobbed his head down and swallowed around Zayn’s cock.
Zayn was immobile, trapped by Liam’s iron grip, completely consumed by the man licking at him languidly and then sucking him into his tight, willing mouth. Zayn decided then and there that Liam was wrong. Surprises were the best fucking thing in the entire universe, and he didn’t need to have one day of the rest of his life planned out if Liam would surprise him like this every day.
And he was relatively sure that he was going to be keeping Liam around long enough to start exploring that “rest of his life” idea, too. Liam hummed around his dick, licked at that sensitive spot right below the head then took Zayn deep into this throat again.
Okay, he was completely sure. Com-fucking-pletely sure of it.
Zayn rested his hand on Liam’s head, scrubbing his palms over the stubble that Liam had told Zayn he was going to start growing out. He couldn’t wait for the day he could finally grasp onto a handful of hair while Liam expertly worked his cock. But until then Zayn had to use words to help guide Liam to exactly where he needed to go.
“Faster, Li,” Zayn ground out through clenched teeth, forcing himself to keep quiet so they weren’t heard.
He couldn’t believe he’d even lasted this long.
He hadn’t come since the fight last night, choosing instead to curl up next to Liam and drift off into an exhaustion and drug fueled sleep. But today had brought a car ride into the country. A suite at an exclusive spa, this steam room that Zayn never, ever wanted to leave, and his boyfriend between his knees torturously taking him to the brink over and over again until every nerve in Zayn’s body screamed for release, begged for Liam to suck him until the whole world disappeared and all that existed was the two of them.
Zayn felt his balls tightening, his muscles straining as he arched up. Liam dug his hands tighter into Zayn’s hips and Zayn could feel the rush of blood to the surface as Liam marked him physically, and the pull of his heart as Liam worshipped his body.
“Don’t stop this time,” Zayn begged. “Fuck. Let me come, Li. I want to come.”
Liam sped his pace and Zayn felt his whole existence tipping over the edge, his heart thundering, his breaths coming in frantic gasps, as he shot down Liam’s throat, the release roaring through him as he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.
Zayn sagged against the tile and Liam chuckled then helped him ease down until he was laid out on the cool tile bench, his body spent. Liam dropped a towel over Zayn, making him at least half-way decent, and Zayn watched while Liam wrapped one around his own waist, then motioned for Zayn to lift his head.
Liam sat down and lifted Zayn’s head, cradling it on his thigh as he ran his hands through Zayn’s wet hair.
“I love surprises,” Zayn managed to croak out between attempts to catch his breath.
“Well then you’ll be glad to see me,” Louis’ voice came from the door, where his head appeared around the corner.
Zayn bolted upright and rearranged the towel making sure he was covered before yelling, “Jesus fucking Christ, Louis. What the hell are you doing?” He waved his hands in the air and shook his head. “No. Not my first question. How long have you been standing there?”
Louis walked into the steam room and dropped his towel completely, settling his bare naked ass on the bench across from Liam and him. Zayn looked to Liam for help, but Liam was just as shell-shocked, his mouth moving up and down but no words coming out.
Louis shrugged. “Popped my head in just now. Why did I interrupt something?” He gave a lewd wink in Liam’s direction.
Zayn pointed at him. “We are not this close, Louis. Not for me to need to see this,” Zayn waved his hands frantically in Louis’ direction, “or for you to be asking any questions about my…” Zayn stopped. Looked between Louis and Liam and started hysterically laughing. He had officially lost it. Either that or the pain meds he was taking were erasing all his boundaries. Zayn gave Liam a mischievous smirk and continued, “…my very active and head-spinningly satisfying sex life.”
Louis threw his head back and let a loud, cackling laugh go before slapping his hand over his mouth and quickly regaining his composure. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Payne. You’ve done magic for our boy here.”
Liam tipped his head and studied Louis like he didn’t quite understand what it was he was looking at. “Um, thank you?”
Louis gave a serious nod. “You’re welcome. Now, Zayn. For the business at hand. I’ve tracked you down here to let you know we received an offer this morning for you to train with Marberry’s former team.”
Zayn’s spine straightened. “You’re serious.”
“Quite,” Louis assured him, flicking the dampening fringe out of his eyes. “I assumed you would want to talk it over. But I mean, what is there really to talk over.”
Zayn narrowed his eyes accusingly at Louis. “You didn’t say yes yet did you?”
Louis threw his palms over his heart. “You wound me with your distrust. But yes, I absolutely said yes.”
“Louis!” Zayn yelled, anger giving him a red haze over the oh-so-lovely post orgasm bubble he’d just been living in.
Zayn’s outburst didn’t seem to faze the man one bit. He gave a cheeky grin and said, “We can get out of it if you want, nothing has been officially signed. But I’m not expecting that outcome.” And with that he stood up (while Zayn and Liam both scrambled to divert their eyes), grabbed his towel, retying it around his waist, and opened the door. “I’ll leave you two to your debauchery. Or recovery from previous debauchery. Whichever is most appropriate. I have a massage scheduled.”
The door slammed shut behind Louis and Zayn glared at it as if it was the offending party.
“He could have just called,” Liam said completely deadpan.
Zayn snorted. “Indeed, he could have. But that’s not how Louis Tomlinson rolls.”
“Who’s Marberry?”
Zayn didn’t even know where to start with that one. Marberry was the lightweight boxer of all-time. A legend and one of Zayn’s heroes. Marberry had retired from the sport just before Zayn had gone professional, but his mark on boxing and this weight class in particular was indelible. Zayn was the fighter he was today because of Marberry.
“He’s the best lightweight to have ever fought,” Zayn explained as succinctly as possible. He could get into fangirling over the fighter later when Liam and he had more time to talk. “There is a catch though,” Zayn hedged, scooting closer to Liam.
“Oh? And what may that be?”
“Marberry’s team lives in London,” Zayn answered, leaving the meaning of his sentence hanging to see if Liam would catch on.
When a grin spread across Liam’s face with the mention of the city, Zayn figured Liam was now completely up to speed.
Liam cleared his throat and Zayn could tell he was trying his best to keep his cool. “I don’t know. Lou makes a lot of sense. What is there really to talk over? It’s your dream team of trainers and, well,” Liam shrugged, “there may be some people in London who are interested in having you around a bit more.”
“Some people?” Zayn said, crooking an eyebrow.
“Well your mum, of course. And dad. They seem to miss you quite a lot.”
Zayn smiled and decided to play along. “My mum? Her chocolate cake is a death knell for my strict diet.”
“Maybe I could eat the cake then, and you could, you know, visit. Since you’ll be living in London.”
“You also realize this means Louis is coming with me?” Zayn tested.
Liam crossed his arms and scrunched his brow together as if he was giving the thought serious consideration. The sheer playfulness of the gesture made Zayn’s heart feel like it had grown to double the size.
“I’ve grown rather fond of Lou,” Liam finally said, with a twitch of his lip. Zayn gave him a gentle slap across the back of the head. Liam took Zayn’s hand in his and kissed each of his fingertips, carefully avoiding the still swollen joints. “London, yeah?”
“Apparently.”
“Are you sure this isn’t a really bad idea?” Liam said with all seriousness.
Zayn put his hand to Liam’s cheek, careful not to touch the bruised area where Liam had taken a punch because he’d had a mad idea and followed through on it, well… just because that’s who he was. Liam stuck to his decisions. Learned from the good and the bad, and strived to be better. He was just as driven as Zayn, even as different as they were. And maybe that would be enough.
Zayn knew he’d never know if he didn’t at least try.
Standing, fighting, or finding the strength to get back up again, they could do it together.
Zayn kissed Liam softly on the cheek. “Doesn’t matter, Li. We’ll figure it out. This. Us. You. That is all that really matters. The rest we’ll fight through together.”