igrab
in
grabi_hands
✿ Sugar Me Sweet • Zayn/Harry
Sugar Me Sweet
Zayn/Harry(/Louis implied)
• happy birthday, Zayn :*
It was a given that Harry would be making the cake; he'd locked himself in the kitchen with a dire warning to any and all who approacheth. Louis, therefore, had taken it upon himself to distract Zayn while Harry was busy in there - and, with Liam and Niall's help in the form of suspiciously locked doors, had managed to chase Zayn around the house and attack him with tickles.
Tickles led to kisses, little fleeting ones all over his face and shoulders and, when he bent over to try and get away, along the smooth skin of his back where his shirt rode up. That got a reaction, and not entirely altogether a good one.
"Th'fuck, Louis?" He was going red, bright red, and Louis's mouth stretched into an impossible grin.
"Happy birthday, Zayn."
"Fuck'off. Y'gave me a present already," he muttered.
He had. They all had, jumped on him at the crack of dawn and smacked him with brightly-wrapped gifts until he'd opened them simply to make them stop. But the grin on Louis's face wasn't dimming in the slightest.
"Oh, that isn't the present yet."
Then the tickles started again and he screamed for mercy and Niall and Liam came to the rescue - for some fucked-up definition of 'rescue' that included 'hold Zayn's arms behind his back while Louis tickles him mercilessly'. It wasn't fair at all, but it was his birthday and he was a Capricorn. Nothing was ever fair.
He did get in a good kick at Louis' bollocks, though, and he didn't even complain, aside from the earsplitting howl. So there was that.
Then, because like it or not, Louis' antics had been effective, the door to the kitchen swung open.
If Zayn thought Harry was gorgeous most of the time, and he did, even when, in Liam's words, he looked like a baby tarzan - there weren't even words to describe how he looked now.
He was, of course, naked. That wasn't exactly a new thing, but it wasn't the sort of thing you ever got used to, being that he was Harry Styles and there wasn't an inch of him that wasn't soft and lean and shapely and perfect. But Zayn had never seen him like this. He'd seen him flushed right after a wank, for fuck's sake, and that still didn't even compare.
Harry was, apparently, a messy baker.
He had flour in his hair. On his chest. chocolate smears on his fingers and lips and his hipbones, and once Zayn's attention was drawn there he could see long white streaks that could only be frosting - deliberate smears, unless Harry'd been doing something in the kitchen that didn't involve making Zayn's birthday cake, which he honestly wouldn't put past him.
His eyes were bright, lips full and red like he'd been licking them, tasting his own handiwork, and oh hey there were other people in the room, weren't there? Louis had a knee on either side of his lap, Liam and Niall pressed up against his sides with their arms all tangled together. They were speaking, he realized belatedly. Chatting, with Harry, and the frosting-smudged cherub was chatting right back but his eyes had never left Zayn's.
Fuck, he thought, all the blood rushing to his dick. They're never going to let me live this down.
Then Harry laughed, something high and clear and his eyes crinkled and he pressed a thumb to those perfect pink lips, and he could dimly hear Louis whispering in his ear.
"I told you that wasn't the present yet. And it still isn't. We've got the whole night ahead of us."
Harry crooked a finger at him, the devil's own smile on his face, and Zayn thought, fuckit. Birthdays only happen once a year.
Zayn/Harry(/Louis implied)
• happy birthday, Zayn :*
It was a given that Harry would be making the cake; he'd locked himself in the kitchen with a dire warning to any and all who approacheth. Louis, therefore, had taken it upon himself to distract Zayn while Harry was busy in there - and, with Liam and Niall's help in the form of suspiciously locked doors, had managed to chase Zayn around the house and attack him with tickles.
Tickles led to kisses, little fleeting ones all over his face and shoulders and, when he bent over to try and get away, along the smooth skin of his back where his shirt rode up. That got a reaction, and not entirely altogether a good one.
"Th'fuck, Louis?" He was going red, bright red, and Louis's mouth stretched into an impossible grin.
"Happy birthday, Zayn."
"Fuck'off. Y'gave me a present already," he muttered.
He had. They all had, jumped on him at the crack of dawn and smacked him with brightly-wrapped gifts until he'd opened them simply to make them stop. But the grin on Louis's face wasn't dimming in the slightest.
"Oh, that isn't the present yet."
Then the tickles started again and he screamed for mercy and Niall and Liam came to the rescue - for some fucked-up definition of 'rescue' that included 'hold Zayn's arms behind his back while Louis tickles him mercilessly'. It wasn't fair at all, but it was his birthday and he was a Capricorn. Nothing was ever fair.
He did get in a good kick at Louis' bollocks, though, and he didn't even complain, aside from the earsplitting howl. So there was that.
Then, because like it or not, Louis' antics had been effective, the door to the kitchen swung open.
If Zayn thought Harry was gorgeous most of the time, and he did, even when, in Liam's words, he looked like a baby tarzan - there weren't even words to describe how he looked now.
He was, of course, naked. That wasn't exactly a new thing, but it wasn't the sort of thing you ever got used to, being that he was Harry Styles and there wasn't an inch of him that wasn't soft and lean and shapely and perfect. But Zayn had never seen him like this. He'd seen him flushed right after a wank, for fuck's sake, and that still didn't even compare.
Harry was, apparently, a messy baker.
He had flour in his hair. On his chest. chocolate smears on his fingers and lips and his hipbones, and once Zayn's attention was drawn there he could see long white streaks that could only be frosting - deliberate smears, unless Harry'd been doing something in the kitchen that didn't involve making Zayn's birthday cake, which he honestly wouldn't put past him.
His eyes were bright, lips full and red like he'd been licking them, tasting his own handiwork, and oh hey there were other people in the room, weren't there? Louis had a knee on either side of his lap, Liam and Niall pressed up against his sides with their arms all tangled together. They were speaking, he realized belatedly. Chatting, with Harry, and the frosting-smudged cherub was chatting right back but his eyes had never left Zayn's.
Fuck, he thought, all the blood rushing to his dick. They're never going to let me live this down.
Then Harry laughed, something high and clear and his eyes crinkled and he pressed a thumb to those perfect pink lips, and he could dimly hear Louis whispering in his ear.
"I told you that wasn't the present yet. And it still isn't. We've got the whole night ahead of us."
Harry crooked a finger at him, the devil's own smile on his face, and Zayn thought, fuckit. Birthdays only happen once a year.