“All right, lads, we’ve got about an hour and a half before dinner. Change, shower, do whatever you need to. Meet me in my room no later than six-thirty.”
Zayn nods to Paul’s words as they pull up to their hotel. He’s seated in the back of the van between Niall and Louis, with Liam and Harry in front with Paul. Out of habit he’s poking and prodding the other boys, although his fingers always find their way to Liam in the end. They pile out of the van together in a huddled mass of limbs, and in a flash find themselves in the wonderfully air conditioned lobby of the hotel.
At this point they all begin to slowly break apart. Paul remains in the lead, guiding them toward the row of elevators leading to the rooms upstairs. Zayn falls back, and in a swift, almost effortless move, grips hold of Liam’s arm, holding him back as well. Liam seems surprised at first but eases at the sight of Zayn, who’s smiling at him.
When Paul realizes that he’s lost two of his flock he stops, turns and says, “Hey, you two, get over here. We need to get you upstairs and changed!”
Zayn calls back, “We’ll be up in a few minutes! I’m not feeling well, gonna use the loo down here, all right?”
Paul seems unconvinced. “You’ve got one in your room, Zayn.”
All it takes to change his mind is for Liam to say, “I’ll bring him up, Paul, no worries!”
“Keep an eye on him, Liam, make sure he’s feeling all right. See you lads soon.”
Soon thereafter Paul, Niall, Louis and Harry disappear into an elevator, leaving Zayn and Liam in the mildly crowded hotel lobby.
Liam, perplexed, turns to Zayn and asks, “You feeling okay?”
Zayn shakes his head. “No. Come with me to the loo?”
The sudden look of concern on Liam’s face shouldn’t be so arousing; Zayn has always liked it a little too much, though, the way Liam dotes on him. They all joke about Liam being ‘Daddy Direction’, but really, Zayn wouldn’t have it any other way. Knowing someone cares about him so deeply makes him feel good. Makes him feel loved.
He wanders down the long corridor beside the reception desk, across from the elevators, eventually finding his way into the men’s bathroom. It’s well lit and smells like lemons, fresh and clean. Zayn heads right for the empty stall on the far left, feigning a look of mild nausea. In reality, what he has planned is anything but nauseating.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Liam says.
For a few moments Zayn pretends to fidget around in the stall. He’s simply stalling for time as he takes in his surroundings. Unlike normal stalls, the door as well as partitions between each stall are from wall to ceiling, and are made with a beautiful tile inlay. It’s like being inside a small, beautifully decorated box. The space is thin, but workable.
“Li,” he calls, “I, um. Can you come here?”
Liam is at the stall door in under a second. “What do you need, Zayn?”
Zayn never locked the stall door. He carefully pulls it open, and with one quick move pulls Liam inside, pressing him against the cool tile wall. As the weight of the stall door forces it to shut on its own, he kisses him deeply, groaning. When he pulls back, he smirks. “I’ve needed a kiss from you all day.”
Liam chuckles. “All of this for a kiss? Somehow I don’t believe it.”
Liam is far more perceptive than Zayn sometimes gives him credit for. Zayn says nothing, simply reaching out to lock the stall door. When he looks back at the other, he can tell Liam is growing somewhat uncertain.
“We’re in a public restroom,” Liam says, as if already disagreeing to it.
“And?”
“What if someone walks in?”
“I like a bit of risk.”
Before Liam can protest further, Zayn kisses him, gripping hold of the thin fabric of Liam’s t-shirt. He can feel resistance, but it lasts only briefly. Soon Liam is responding in kind, his arms wrapping around Zayn’s waist. Already half hard, the Bradford boy delves his tongue out and swipes it across Liam’s lips, coaxing his mouth open. The two share a few deep, intimate kisses before Liam pulls away and buries his face in Zayn’s neck.
Zayn groans, and against the soft skin of his neck he hears Liam murmur, “Shhh…”
He smirks. Liam’s the one who will have to worry about being silent.
Zayn moves his hands from Liam’s chest and down to the button and zipper of his jeans. Liam, clearly surprised, responds with a swift grip that holds the hands in place.
“What are you doing?” he hears Liam breathe against his ear.
“I want more of you,” Zayn replies, cupping Liam’s hardened cock, eliciting a grunt from him.
“We’re gonna get caught.”
Again Zayn says nothing in response. He goes once more to unbutton Liam’s jeans, knowing he’ll find no further resistance. After all, Liam’s a teenage boy, too. When someone really wants to touch you, it’s hard to say no.
After a few moments of work Zayn’s got Liam’s pants and underwear down around his knees. Warm heat pulses off of his smooth skin. Zayn grips his boyfriend’s erection and can feel the response traveling throughout his entire body. Liam presses himself harder against the tile wall. He whimpers, and it’s a beautiful sound. Zayn knows that once he’s heard that, he’s got Liam in the palm of his hand.
He latches on to Liam’s neck, kissing from his collarbone to his ear, building up a slow and easy rhythm with his hand. Liam’s hands are running all over Zayn’s body, exploring mindlessly. It’s been about three or four days since their last go around, far too long for Zayn’s liking. The only downside to having one’s own private room is that there’s no easy cover up as to why you’re always in another’s.
Well, unless you’re Niall, and you’re raiding refrigerators…
“Jesus, Zayn!”
Liam’s trying hard to keep himself quiet, but Zayn has officially made it his job to prevent that. He’s hitting all of the other boy’s sweet spots: behind his left ear, just under the slit of his cockhead, and soon…
He swallows, pulling away swiftly. He gives Liam only a moment to recover before he turns him around and pulls out his hips. That round, soft ass bumps into Zayn’s crotch and he groans, fighting the urge to drop his pants and fuck him senseless. No, he has something else in mind, something that drives Liam even wilder.
“What are you—oh…oh!”
Zayn lowers his hand and massages the space between Liam’s balls and asshole with the tip of his forefinger. Liam’s hips roll with the touch, and his breath hitches in his throat. He’s started down the slope of no control, and Zayn’s hungry for more.
“I’ve wanted to do this for days,” the dark haired boy says, silencing himself as he inserts his forefinger into his mouth, wetting it. He soon lowers it to Liam’s hole and gingerly rubs it against the tight skin. Liam responds with a fluttering moan—it’s like music to Zayn’s ears.
He plays with Liam’s asshole, prodding at it with his sopping wet fingertip. He’s waiting for those magic words, and he’s soon rewarded with a breathy, short request: “Fuck, please!”
He chuckles. Liam’s nothing if not polite.
“You want it, Li?” he asks, pressing and rubbing his fingertip along the other’s perineum. He can feel the muscles contracting, can feel the heat emanating from his skin. Liam is primed and ready. He lifts the middle finger of his other hand and languidly wets it in his mouth. Then, in a quick and easy move, he presses it against Liam’s hole and inserts it into the tight, smooth passageway. An uninhibited, loud moan escapes Liam but he catches himself. The look on his face is halfway between relief and worry.
“No one can hear you,” Zayn says reassuringly once he’s inserted the finger fully. Liam’s muscles clench around him; his own erection to strain against the fabric of his jeans from the feel of it. “Tell me how much you like it, Li. I wanna hear you.”
“Someone’s gonna walk in,” Liam replies almost desperately, but he’s pressing against the finger and rolling his hips, as if to encourage Zayn to keep going. “Someone’s gonna hear.”
Zayn begins to slide his finger in and out of Liam, moving slowly at first. He waits until he feels Liam relax, allowing him to finally locate his prostate. He’s done this a dozen times, but it always takes him an extra moment or two to feel it out. In the meantime, he enjoys the sight of Liam now jerking himself off with one hand, supporting himself against the tile wall with the other. He’s got his face buried in the crook of his elbow.
“You look so hot, Li,” Zayn murmurs, licking his lips.
He gets a pleased yelp in response. That’s it. He’s found Liam’s sweet spot. He rubs against it easily at first, and is soon rewarded with a tight clenching of muscles around his finger. Liam grunts almost helplessly, muffled by his forearm. As Zayn stimulates him further, he feels Liam jerking faster. He’s getting even closer to losing control. Zayn can’t wait.
Liam is doing everything he can to be quiet as Zayn fingers him, and Zayn revels in it. He loves hearing the controlled, hushed whimpering, loves the feel of Liam writhing in his grip. He presses and presses against Liam’s prostate with increasing speed, and with each passing second, he can tell that the Wolverhampton boy is moving closer and closer to the point of no return.
Soon it’s impossible for Liam to stay quiet. Zayn feels his muscles clenching tighter and tighter, almost in tandem with Liam’s hand movements. The younger one’s hips buck, his legs are shaking, and Zayn knows that it’s happening. To him, there is nothing hotter than Liam in those precious seconds before he loses complete control of himself, and he drinks it in, listening to Liam’s short, panting moans as he spills himself all over the granite floor, succumbing to his orgasm. Zayn doesn’t ease up, and as Liam experiences the second wave of his orgasm, Zayn’s rewarded with a loud cry of ecstasy that reverberates in the tiny bathroom stall.
Zayn carefully removes his finger from within his lover and begins massaging his ass and lower back, arching over him to kiss Liam’s burning hot ear. Liam’s body twitches, but Zayn doesn’t let up, kissing down his neck and along his collarbone as well.
“God, Zayn, I—oh, damn.”
Liam murmurs incoherently for another few moments. When the daze of orgasm begins to wash away, he soon notices the mess he made upon the floor, as well as upon part of his jeans and underwear. He hurriedly reaches for some toilet paper, and Zayn begins to help him clean up.
“You were fucking hot, Li,” Zayn says afterward, giving Liam a wicked grin.
“Nobody heard us, right?” Liam asks, but he’s got that twinkle in his eye and that lilt to his voice that makes Zayn think maybe, just maybe, the idea of getting caught actually made it hotter for him.
“I dunno,” he replies honestly. “I was too busy making you come to notice.”
Liam moves in close then, cupping his hand over Zayn’s hardened arousal. “What about you, then?” he asks. His face is flushed red and little beads of sweat dot along his forehead.
Zayn has never found him more beautiful.
“Oh, I’ll get mine later,” he says. “I’ve played with your hole. You can pound mine after dinner.”
Liam’s eyes crinkle in genuine amusement as he laughs. “It’s a date.”
written by tumblr user: ljpzjm.tumblr.com