Work Text:
“You know,” Niall mutters into her pillow, “if you’re not gonna leave it alone, I’m going to bite off your hand.”
There’s a silence before Zayn tugs almost reproachfully at the hair curled around her fingers. “Not true.” She pauses though, enough for Niall to count three, four, five heartbeats before her fingers creep back into the blonde mess of Niall’s hair.
This is not exactly how Niall planned on spending her day off, face buried in her pillow and sheets pooled somewhere around her hips. The morning Melbourne sun licking warmth up from the bottom of her spine and Zayn played with the fine hairs on the back of her neck. In all honesty, there had been rather grand visions of sleeping in until after eleven am. However, Zayn crawling grumpily into her bed, declaring that Liam was, like, the worst arsehole ever, had put an almost instantaneous end to that train of thought.
“It could be true,” she retorts, and Zayn’s other hand skirts down the length of her side, teasing and light and Niall is decidedly less grouchy. It doesn’t stop her from turning her head to try and bite at Zayn’s fingers anyway.
It’s not all bad, she has to admit. The morning might not have gone to plan, but at least she’d followed through on the idea of sleeping naked. Last night’s show had been exhausting, Louis in a foul mood (Niall is certain that she’s still sick but is stubbornly refusing to get help) dragging out the show to the point where even Harry had fidgeted during the twitter questions. After that, and the trip to the hotel, sleeping with clothes wasn’t something Niall had time for. Honestly, she’d much preferred the shortening of time between being out of bed and passing out in the blankets.
“It isn’t,” Zayn insists.
“You don’t know that for sure,” she murmurs instead, turning her head to the side. She catches a glimpse of the close-cropped mess of Zayn’s hair, the smile pulling at the corner of that mouth, the brief flash of white teeth.
“I can make a good guess though, like,” and that’s definitely a hint of Zayn’s tongue pressing against those teeth, “you’re not that hard to figure out, mate.”
Which, yeah, Niall has to give her kudos for that. She likes to at least think that she’s relatively easy to please - give her a guitar and a pint and you can guarantee that she’ll remain cheerful for the foreseeable future. She doesn’t see the point in wasting time dwelling when there’s so much to do. It doesn’t stop her from grumbling though, nothing more than a short sound pulled from her throat that has Zayn letting out a giggle of laughter. She follows it by leaning down, breath hot against Niall’s bare skin when she drops a kiss onto Niall’s shoulder blade.
“Hey,” Zayn drawls, and she’s been spending too much time with Harry, the way the sound draws out in perfect imitation of Harry’s indignation, “can I?”
There’s a permanent marker in her hand, the one not currently tangled in Niall’s hair, and a questioning look on her face. Niall scrunches up her face until her eyes screw shut, and wishes that Zayn was not in the mood for being up - for being incredibly UnZayn if Niall was feeling truthful. But when Zayn’s expression starts to verge on crestfallen, Niall can’t stop herself.
It’s a compulsion, she thinks, when she breathes out a “yes”, that might one day become a problem, how there is nothing in the world she can deny these girls.
The dull click of the cap sounds loud in the ensuing silence, marked only by the light pull on Niall’s hair as Zayn shifts it away from her back. Zayn’s teeth scrape over the skin of her shoulder, dragging in a way that makes Niall squirm, a gesture that seems nothing more than a silent thanks. Niall huffs out a laugh against the cool sheets when the bed dips, Zayn resting her weight on the back of Niall’s thighs. Her knees dig into the mattress on either side of Niall’s hips, bracketing her in and Niall is hit by the sudden reminder that Zayn isn’t exactly dressed.
“Get on with it,” she grouches when Zayn’s teeth bite in a little too hard over the skin across her shoulder blade. She can’t help the sharp stab of warmth in her stomach nor the way her voice comes out rather more breathless than she first intended. “You’re worse than Li, and she at least gives me backrubs.”
The first drag of marker against Niall’s skin is expected after that, a long pull straight down the length of her back, bottoming out as a curl at the base of her spine. The tip of the marker slides just over the swell of her arse. Niall takes a deep breath, though to relax herself or cling to the remaining shreds of her sanity, she doesn’t know. She can sense Zayn’s smile (that one where her eyes crinkle at the corners) boring into the back of her skull, fingers tugging on Niall’s hair, admonishing.
It’s only after another couple of lines are added to the swirling galaxy taking shape against her skin, that Niall chances a glance back at Zayn. The sight is something to see, Zayn has her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, eyes lowered to the task at hand. They've dropped far enough that it seems like her eyelashes are brushing the tops of those ridiculous cheekbones even though Niall knows that’s not physically possible.
She looks gorgeous, and Niall feels her breath catch. “What are you drawing, then?” she asks, resisting the urge to stretch out languidly, maybe turn over to pull Zayn down until their mouths slide together at just the right angle.
“The cosmos,” Zayn says, and Niall thinks she gets it as much as she doesn’t.
Zayn’s always been a little beyond Niall’s grasp, a certain depth to her that Niall still regards as unfathomable. She doesn’t mistake that for unapproachable, well aware of the wealth of affection that Zayn has if you’re willing to look (not even particularly that hard). At the same time she hasn’t lost sight of the fact that, when it comes down it, Zayn emotional responses and way of operating differs from how Niall lives. Even after constant exposure to Louis and all her increasingly worrying antics, Zayn’s still retained that infamous mysterious exterior.
“The universe?” Niall asks skeptically instead of voicing any of that out loud, “I don’t think my back is big enough to contain the entire fuckin’ universe.”
Zayn’s laughter is near silent, but Niall feels the vibrations rattle around in her ribcage like a jackhammer. “Just wait,” Zayn says, and it sounds a lot like a promise, “you’ll see.”
This is nice though, the slow even rhythm of Zayn's breathing the lead for Niall’s own, even when the marker drags across a particularly ticklish spot that makes her want to squirm and beg for mercy. It’s calming in a way that so much about their band isn’t, a secret told through the lines painted on her skin. One kept between them and sun-warmed room as Zayn starts looping circles on her skin, evident rings of the planet inked into a notch on Niall’s spine.
Zayn’s drawing seems unhurried, smooth flowing lines that make Niall’s toes curl.
“What planet are you drawing?” She asks after another stretch of silence. The task itself might be calming, but Niall’s always curious, always needs to know what’s going on.
Zayn snorts a laugh, and it curls heat in Niall’s belly. “Uranus.”
“Uranus doesn’t have rings, you dick,” Niall retorts, the obvious smile in her voice softening the edge to her words.
There’s a split second of weighted silence before Zayn breaks into song, voice curling over the words I got gloss on my lips, a girl on my hips, hold me tighter than my Dereon jeans, and stops Niall from turning over by sheer fact of dropping herself into a deadweight on Niall’s back.
Niall sighs with a certain amount of flair and Zayn giggles through the rest of the verse when Niall opens her mouth to harmonise along with her, both of them belting out Beyonce at the top of their lungs. Niall lets loose with an exaggerated hip wiggle as they transition into the chorus, enjoying the brush of . Zayn’s laughter muffles after a moment, buried against the curve of Niall’s shoulder as her knees dig into Niall’s hips. “Fine,” she manages after Niall’s trailed out on the woah-oh-oh’s, “it’s Saturn.”
Niall hums thoughtfully. “Acceptable,” she wriggles again for reasons, “though I liked when you were thinking about my arse.”
Zayn bites down before sitting back up, marker sliding back into its movement, inking a supernova into the dip of Niall’s back. “Can’t think about your arse all the time, Ni,” she says, “I’d never get anything done, like.”
Niall can’t help the cackle that bubbles out of her throat, couldn’t contain it if she tried. “You saying I’m distracting then?” She answers, and writhes once more.
The supernova gives way to a black hole, sucking in the light of the universe littered across her spine, chewing it almost into nothingness as it bends Niall’s skin to its will. The black hole seems unforgiving, swirling along the ridge of her right shoulder, the event horizon spreading out toward the solar system of freckles dusting her pale skin, swallowing all in its path. Niall wonders if she’s being slowly ravaged by the black hole, consumed the same way that Zayn’s skin pressed against hers is burning everything in its path. Niall can’t help the way her breath hitches, a soft gasp caught in the back of her throat, as she whines out, “Zayn.”
Then Zayn is gone, her weight lifted from the back of Niall’s thighs, without so much as a by your leave. A fact she’s equally relieved and irritated about when Zayn settles against her side, pinching Niall’s side as she throws a leg over the space she’d recently vacated. “Alright, yeah?”
Niall just nods, swallows around her tongue that has gone thick in her mouth, arousal sitting heavy in her veins as Zayn reaches out again, hand settling on her waist. Her fingertips tiptoe upward, barely grazing her skin until they slide over the curve of Niall’s breast, enough that Niall turns her head to look at her fully.
Zayn’s grin is nothing short of shit-eating and something in Niall’s chest lurches at the sight of that smile.
“Motherfucker,” she nearly shouts, and rolls on top of Zayn, uncaring of how the sheets slide down over her hips and off her legs, “you did that on purpose!”
“Me?” Zayn protests, contorting her face into one of innocence, where she squints into the distance at a point over Niall’s shoulder, which fools absolutely no one. Especially when her hands drop to a grip on Niall’s hips and squeeze lightly.
“Yes you, you twat,” Niall grins through the insult, “you bastard.”
“Doesn’t sound like something I’d do,” Zayn stresses but she’s smiling too and Niall can’t resist throwing her arms up in a frustrated gesture before leaning down to slide her mouth along Zayn’s, a light testing swipe before she presses her mouth down for real.
Zayn groans and the way it vibrates into Niall’s ribcage is so endlessly satisfying that Niall finds it hard to remember why she’s so mad. Especially when Zayn curls up and allows Niall to drag a hand through her hair, catching on the messy, black strands and she slides her hand around to cradle the back of Zayn’s neck, change the angle of the kiss so she can slide her tongue into the wet heat of Zayn’s incredibly appealing mouth.
And Zayn is on board, she’s so on board with the program, Niall thinks, when Zayn’s hands slide lower on Niall’s waist until they’re grabbing at her arse, not desperate or forceful, just a slow kneading of the flesh in time to the sweep of Niall’s tongue against her own.
While frantic kisses are good, excellent, for high pressure situations, the lazy slide of tongues and unhurried nature and calm that Zayn brings to these situations makes Niall’s toes curl. They kiss for an undetermined amount of time (Niall isn’t about to start counting seconds in her head) until tongues are replaced by lips, a soft smattering of kisses pressed to Zayn’s mouth until Niall trails off to lavish open mouthed kisses against the warm tan of Zayn’s throat.
“This better,” Zayn gasps, when Niall bites down on her neck just above her collar, “be worth it.” Niall hums, and knows she’s not imagining the faint rasp to Zayn’s voice. She snorts in response anyway, biting at the skin of her stomach until Zayn wriggles and hisses, “stop it.”
“I don’t think so,” Niall murmurs against her stomach, already sliding her fingers down. She’s pleasantly surprised to find, when she circles the pad of her thumb against the outside of Zayn’s underwear, that the fabric is slightly damp. Surprised, but damn pleased. Zayn’s hips tilt up, pushing Niall’s thumb against her and the soft noise Zayn makes sounds a lot like relief.
“I got ya,” she says, and the trembles of Zayn’s stomach muscles could be a laugh if Niall sliding down to mouth at her clit didn’t make them clench tightly under Niall’s free hand. She works like that for a while, breath hot against the inside of Zayn’s thighs and Niall can feel her own cheeks heating. God, how they must look, when Zayn’s legs fall open and she tugs on Niall’s erratically curling hair.
“Now, Ni,” Zayn bites out, and her tone leaves no room for argument even as she pushes her underwear down, impatient fingers at the material until Niall hooks her own fingers in and drags them down, shifting around to slide them off before settling down between Zayn’s legs once more.
“Christ,” she mutters, mouth inches away from Zayn’s clit, tongue darting out to draw a hitched breath from Zayn’s lips, “you’re a bossy one, aren’t you?”
“Fuck off,” Zayn bites back, but there’s no heat to her words other than the flush settling in her cheeks, and Niall throws half a moment to look like she’s considering it for all of a second.
Then she hums, leaning up to press a kiss square on Zayn’s mouth, as she slides a finger inside and crooks it. “Pass.”
And god, Zayn is wet, pushing down to meet Niall’s finger with barely-veiled enthusiasm and Niall presses kisses to the bony curve of her collarbone, tangles a hand in Zayn’s quiff. She allows a moment to take a breath, pulling her finger all the way out before shifting back in with two, and Christ.
She doesn’t stop herself then, and Zayn doesn’t protest beyond a hitched groan when Niall tightens fingers in her hair, tugs it back until the long line of Zayn’s neck is exposed. She gasps when Niall sets her teeth to the skin, sucking a bright mark into the column of Zayn’s throat, in time to the rhythm of her fingers, and Niall is entirely way too encouraged by the sounds tripping out of Zayn’s mouth, half-sentences and swears caught up in hard exhales and soft noises until it’s all blurred in Niall’s mind.
She bites at the edge of Zayn’s collarbone when she adds a third, and Zayn’s hips arch of their own accord, and Niall wants, aches so bad with the urge to tongue-fuck her until she can’t breathe properly. Until all Zayn knows is filtered down to this bed on a lazy Melbourne morning, vision narrowed so all she knows is Niall. Needs Niall as she dips her tongue inside her, so fucking slowly until she’s curled up with the want of it, the need of it, begging Niall stop being a teasing prick and do it fucking properly.
Niall won’t though, because Zayn asked for this with all her teasing, her half-bitten curses like music to Niall’s ears when she tongues a nipple, nipping at the skin until it hardens under her touch. Zayn’s breasts are perky, a little on the smaller side comparatively to Louis (and don’t even get Niall started on how many times she’s accidentally-or-not seen those), but Niall thinks that’s just the right amount, when presses a light fluttering kiss on the top - and twists her fingers at the same time.
“Fuck, Niall, Ni,” Zayn breathes, and she’s meeting Niall’s thrusts now, more urgently than before, rocking her whole body down to meet Niall’s fingers, squeezing around them in a way that shoots heat low through Niall’s belly, and fuck, yeah, who wouldn’t be turned on by this. Zayn’s fingers find purchase on Niall’s back, smudging the universe curled against her spine but Niall’s got her whole fucking cosmos right here. “Niall.”
“I got ya,” she repeats lower still, huskier, and leans up until Zayn can mash their mouths together, a kiss more bite than finesse and Zayn whines when Niall draws her fingers out. Loud enough that Niall rolls her eyes in an affectionate sort of way as she repositions herself, allowing a moment to bite at the heart inked over one hip. “I’ve got you,” she says once more, then she lowers her head and licks a stripe up across Zayn’s pussy, just once before she slides her tongue inside, into the space vacated by her fingers.
The moan she pulls from Zayn mouths scatters like a supernova over her skin, a starburst scattered across the galaxy as she pushes her tongue inside and pulls it out, presses a finger in alongside, then two, before she pulls her tongue out and licks across Zayn’s clit. “Come on, babe,” she murmurs against Zayn’s skin, flicks her tongue across the nerve and Zayn’s back arches like a bow.
Zayn’s whole body shudders when she comes, pulled taught and then released, drained of life like a dying star and Niall feels sort of like she’s tried to saddle a comet through space. But there’s no dying light here, when Zayn’s eyes take half a moment to flicker open, golden brown in the sunshine spilling into the room and Niall absent mindedly thinks one of them should have shut the curtains.
“Alright?” Zayn asks, and she looks disgustingly content, even as her fingers trail up over the curve of Niall’s breast, rolling the nipple between her fingers, and Niall lets her eyes flutter shut.
“Isn’t that--” Niall’s breath hitches and she tries again, “--isn’t that what I should be asking you?”
“Hmm,” Zayn murmurs, and Niall risks taking a peek out from under her lashes to find Zayn looking at her thoughtfully. “I think I need a shower.”
And the swipe of disappoint in Niall’s gut is so swift it’s almost painful, though it’s almost like Zayn had predicted it, swinging herself into an upright position with a soft huff, fingers tangled once more in Niall’s hair. She tilts Niall’s head back gradually until she’s forced to either look at Zayn or turn away entirely. The bite mark on Zayn’s throat is reddening and Niall almost can’t wait to see it bruise.
“You’re coming with me, idiot,” Zayn tugs on her hair, “as if I’m not repaying the favour.”
“You don’t,” Niall starts, and Zayn fixes her with a look, “have to.” The excuse sounds lame to her own ears, even before Zayn had rolled her eyes, shifting off the bed and tugging Niall up with her. Zayn leans down, all inch or two of height above Niall and steps her back until she’s pressed against the wall.
“Idiot,” Zayn repeats, and kisses her fully this time, tongue swiping against her mouth and Niall barely has time to whine before Zayn is licking her way inside. It’s still so damn hot and Niall can’t help that she’s feeling a little neglected over here as she squirms, all previous gloom thoughts forgotten as Zayn’s tongue strokes against her own.
She allows herself to be shuffled, until Zayn can get a hand between her legs, the other curled over Niall’s breast, kneading the skin gently. Niall can’t help arching into the touch, and come on, this can't be fair. Zayn’s voice breathes hot over the shell of her ear, and Niall feels goosebumps break out over her skin. “Come shower with me?”
“Yeah,” she agrees without hesitation, pushing up to press their mouths together. They hold like that for a long moment, Niall's nose pressed into the curve of Zayn's neck, until she manages to pull her head back out, the grin she can't stop pulling at her mouth. “Besides, someone drew a galaxy on me, then ruined it. Better go fuckin’ clean it up.”
Zayn’s laughter warms her far more than the sun had ever done, their fingers tangled together. “I’ll get right on that.”
Zayn eats her out in the shower first though, whispered promises like floating stardust against the creamy pale of Niall’s thighs, covered by Niall’s moans.
Because Zayn might be hard to understand sometimes.
But Niall knows what it’s like to hold the universe in the palm of your hand.