I Turn My Camera On
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"">Title: I Turn My Camera On
Pairing: Liam/Zayn
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3,400
Summary: Skype sex. That’s all it is.
Warnings: Fluff and dildos.
Disclaimer: Not real. Not real in the slightest.
A/N: Because apparently, you give me an idea and I just fly with it. Title comes from the Spoon song of the same name. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy.
It’s nights like these when Zayn really misses tour.
Sure, he loves being on break. He loves seeing his mum and dad, loves being able to kiss his sisters before they go off to school, loves being able to rest and not wake up at some ungodly hour to go to another interview or get on another plane. It’s nice, sleeping in his own bed, not being surrounded by strangers, not being poked and prodded into perfect form.
Being home is great. But it doesn’t make him miss Liam any less.
And it’s ridiculous. It’s stupid, and absurd, and it makes Zayn feel like a nagging housewife because it’s not like he doesn’t see Liam for months on end. He’s only been home for a week, and he’s only got another two before they start press and studio again, so he really should be making the best of his time home. And he does. When he’s not pining.
Because as much as he likes being on break, it’s not the same. He’s gotten so used to Liam just being there all the time, to all of them being there, that turning around and not bumping into one of them is, truthfully, emotionally exhausting. Zayn misses the other boys, he does, but with Liam it’s different. With the other boys, he’s not waking up in a panic because the other side of the bed is cold.
Somewhere along the line, Liam turned him into a 13-year-old girl. Zayn’s accepted this.
But one of the worst things about it, one of the things that has Zayn counting down the days until he has to go back to work, is that he’s so, so tired of getting himself off. And it’s another absurd part about it, because Zayn has gotten himself off loads of times in his life - and this should be no different. But it is, it really is because before this he hadn’t experienced Liam’s hand or Liam’s mouth or his dick or, Jesus, Liam’s ass and now that he has, the prospect of coming without any of those things present is mildly disappointing.
It’s one of the few blessed nights where his house is empty, because even more rare than having a day to rest is having a day to himself, without friends and family coming to visit or his mum worrying after him or his sisters running around the house. His family is gone to another relative’s house a few hours away, Zayn opting to stay home and sleep for a while. And he had, at first, but now he’s just sulking.
He leans back against his headboard, head thunking against the hard wood as he rubs a hand across his stomach, and he’s just weighing the pros and cons of having another angsty, unsatisfying wank when his phone vibrates on the nightstand.
Liam Payne
If ur home u shuld get on skype :)
Zayn’s about to text back but it’s hard when he’s already scrambling to set get his MacBook, booting it up at a speed that Liam should never know about, ever.
Skype finally, finally loads, Liam calling seconds later and then he’s there, in his bedroom all the way in Wolverhampton, smiling kind of dopily and half-shy like he always does and Zayn does not swoon.
“Hey,” he says, and it’s quiet and the sound is shit, the murmur of a TV playing in the background and the picture is way too grainy, but it’s still Liam and Zayn hasn’t had a chance to see him since the airport and he’s perfect.
“Hi,” Zayn replies, adjusting the screen brightness and tilt so he can see better. It’s pretty late, past time for when people should be in bed but he supposes that they never really did end up getting off of tour-time. Liam’s kind of sprawled out on his bed, shirt off like he was about to go to sleep and it’s not helping Zayn’s situation any because he feels his cock stir almost instantly.
“Didn’t expect you to be home,” Liam says, smiling all soft and fond and Zayn wants to kiss him, hurts that he can’t.
Zayn shrugs, “Everyone’s out tonight. I just wanted a night to myself, you know?”
“Yeah,” Liam nods, face apprehensive, “Should I leave you to it, then?”
“What? No!” Zayn half-shouts, immediately embarrassed but Liam just smiles and continues on with the conversation.
“No one’s here, either,” he says, eyes flicking to what Zayn assumes is the television before Liam turns it off so Zayn can hear better, “I think they get that I just want to be alone for a bit. Besides you.”
And Zayn can’t help but smile at that, “Yeah.”
They chat for a while like that. Liam asks about how his family is and talks about what he’s done since he got home, how many times he’s woken up in the middle of the night expecting Niall to be pounding on the door asking where he’s put his phone. It’s nice, almost as comfortable as being face-to-face. They’ve texted every day since they saw each other, talked on the phone once or twice, but it’s nice to see Liam, to know he looks alright and that he’s okay, and he might not be able to touch or smell or kiss him, but it’s a good compromise.
They’re about an hour into their conversation and Liam’s halfway through a story about how he almost made it through a supermarket queue without being recognized when his phone rings from across the room.
“Shit,” Liam says, distracted, “Hold on,” and he throws the sheet off from where it was been covering his lower half, stumbling off his bed to answer. Zayn vaguely hears him greet the person on the other end, but is ultimately too distracted because not only was Liam shirtless, but he’s not wearing trousers, either. And it shouldn’t be a surprise, Zayn’s known he only wears his underwear to sleep even before they got together, but Zayn’s horny as all fuck and he it doesn’t help when he can see the curve of Liam’s ass and the shape of his cock through the thin material.
He almost feels creepy, and he shouldn’t because he’s seen Liam buckass nude on many occasions, but it’s different because all that Liam’s wanted to do is talk, and Zayn loves that, and he should be enjoying it and not ogling. Plus, Zayn is almost sure that if Liam wanted something to happen, he’d initiate it. He does when they’re together, anyway.
He hangs up and flops back down on his bed, tilting his laptop back into position. He doesn’t bother with the sheet this time, instead lying up on his side, leaning on an elbow and Zayn can see everything. The muscles in Liam’s arms and the slim trail of hair leading down into his boxer-briefs, the line of his dick where it’s nestled between his thighs, and he wants to cry because Liam is such a little tease, even when he doesn’t know it.
“Sorry about that,” he says, “It was just mum telling me they wouldn’t be home to- are you alright?”
Liam’s looking at him worriedly, like he’s afraid Zayn’s about to get sick and he wants to come through the screen and take care of him, and Zayn flushes because that is definitely not the problem, “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You look kind of red and your eyes are all glazed like you’ve got a fever and -“, Liam’s face suddenly drops and his mouth falls open, “Oh. Wait, Zayn, are you…?”
Zayn panics and decides the best course of action is to act like he has no idea what Liam’s talking about, “Am I what?”
“It’s just, uh,” Liam scratches behind his ear and scrubs a hand over his face, “That’s kind of how you look when we’re, you know.”
Nope, Zayn doesn’t know, “When we’re what?”
Liam tries to make an exasperated face but he just ends up looking distressed, “It’s how you look when we’re in bed. Not just in bed, but like, you know… doing stuff.”
“Doing stuff?”
“Zayn,” he says, obviously getting irritated and Zayn would give in if he weren’t so embarrassed, “When we’re fucking. Your face looks like that when you’re horny.”
“Oh.”
“Yep.”
They both pause, Liam looking at Zayn intently while Zayn looks anywhere but, wondering if there’s a way he could possibly get out of this Skype call without Liam getting mad but he interrupts.
“So, are you?”
“Am I horny?”
“Yeah.”
He’s not judging, not at all, he looks sweet and just like he always does, but with a hint of something that Zayn can’t place.
“It’s not my fault, okay? You’re nearly naked, and it’s been a week, and I’m even though I’m almost 20 I’m still technically a teenager -“
“Hey,” Liam says softly, “Not judging. I get it.”
And he looks so sincere that Zayn makes a little aborted noise in his throat because sometimes he still can’t believe that Liam is his, that he hasn’t made all this up and that it isn’t a sick, cruel joke that the universe is playing on him. So he just nods, unable to keep the smile from slinking onto his face.
It’s quiet until Liam speaks up again, “So, do you want to do something about it?”
Zayn just stares back, mouth agape, but he did not expect that. “You’re serious?”
“Well, yeah. Watching you has kind of got me the same way, you know.”
Zayn’s eyes trail down to where Liam’s cock is pressing hard against his underwear and he’s pretty sure his mouth waters when Liam reaches down to adjust himself, fingers wrapping around his shaft through the black fabric.
“Christ, Li,” he breathes, “I don’t even know how to go about this.”
Liam shrugs, “Just get your clothes off and we’ll figure it out.”
Zayn nods, unsure of what to do first, and he finally fumbles with his zipper. It’s awkward, it’s not sexy in the least, but Liam stares the entire time so he figures he must be doing something right.
When he sits back in front of his computer, Liam’s sitting up, far enough back so that Zayn can see to the tops of his thighs, legs spread on either side of his computer. He’s washed out from his monitor’s light but Zayn can still see him pretty clearly, can see his hand moving slowly on himself through his underwear again, and his breath catches in his throat.
Zayn still doesn’t know what on Earth he’s doing, but he’s pretty sure he knows the next logical step, “We should take these off, too,” he says, gesturing to his underwear.
“You first,” Liam says, hand still moving, “Want to watch you.”
Zayn nods awkwardly before pulling his briefs down by the waistband, his hard cock slapping up against his stomach.
“Christ,” Liam breathes, “Fuck, I miss you. Okay,” Zayn watches him slide his pants down, slowly, too slowly, sliding down over his cock until it pops up from being released. He pulls his legs up and slides them the rest of the way down, tossing them across the room and then he’s thankfully, blessedly naked and all that Zayn can do is stare for a minute.
Liam laughs, “See something you like?” Then does this ambiguous little faux-sexy pose that makes the tension in Zayn’s body drain because this is still just Liam, and even though he’s never done this, it’s not like it’s anyone he’s uncomfortable around or that he doesn’t trust implicitly.
Liam scoots back a little, leaning up against his pillows and Zayn follows so they’re in about the same position, so that Liam can see him clearly.
Liam takes himself in hand, fingers wrapping around his cock and giving himself a few long strokes and then gestures for Zayn to do the same, and it’s good, touching himself is always good, but it’s still a little awkward.
“Just relax,” Liam says, closing his eyes and leaning back against the headboard, “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“You,” Zayn says without thinking, stroking a little quicker, little drips of precome already easing the slide, “The last time we fucked, in that hotel room when the boys were out drinking.”
“Mm, yeah,” Liam breathes, running his thumb over the head of his cock, “That was really good. D’you know what my favorite part of that was?”
“What?”
“When you let me come inside you,” he says, conversationally, like he’s not jerking himself off, and Zayn has to clamp a hand down around the base of his cock just to keep from coming right then and there, “How you were dripping with me afterward.”
“Jesus Christ,” Zayn breathes, moving his other hand down so he can roll his balls and stroke a dry finger over his hole, gasping at the contact and rutting shamelessly into his hand.
“Fuck,” Liam says, “Have you unpacked yet?”
Zayn’s hands still and he gapes, incredulous, “Really? Is now the time?”
“Just Answer, Zayn,” he grits out, “Please.”
“I haven’t, alright? But now is not the time for you to act like my mum -“
“Check in the zipper in the main compartment, under where your t-shirts are.”
Zayn blinks at him, “You know, when most guys’ boyfriends are about to finger themselves in front of them, they don’t interrupt.”
“Just do it, Zayn.”
Zayn huffs, “Fine, crazy fuck,” He stands, horny and irritated, cock still aching for attention as he walks over and digs through his suitcase, digging under his remaining clothes until he gets to the zip compartment and pulls out something long and hard and oh, god. He knows what that is.
They bought it on a whim, when they had a day off and ended up wandering into a seedy sex shop that they had to actually sneak into to not get photographed. They weren’t even shopping, really, just browsing and looking for some kind of inspiration, maybe, and then Liam saw it and talked him into it.
And that’s how they came to be the owners of a bright blue, sparkly dildo.
It’s not huge, smaller than Liam’s cock, and they only ended up using it once, when they had more time on their hands than usual and Liam could lick him open slowly, fuck him with the dildo until he was writhing and begging to come. Zayn feels a new surge of heat fill his belly at the memory.
Liam looks apprehensive when Zayn sits back down on his bed, hands stiff by his sides, dick wilting to half-hard during the wait. Zayn holds up the dildo, “Wonder how this got in there.”
“Listen, you don’t have to -“
“But you want me to fuck myself with it for you.”
Liam opens his mouth like he’s going to deny it, but ends up snapping his jaw shut and nodding. “But you don’t have to, we can go back to -“
But Zayn’s already leaning over to where his lube is stuffed under the mattress, retrieving it and holding it up with the dildo, “Okay.”
“Jesus,” Liam says, “I mean, really?”
Zayn shrugs, “Of course,” and Liam looks at him like his heart is about to explode out of his chest so Zayn decides to milk it a little more, leaning back against the pillows and angling his hips up so Liam can see everything, “Why don’t you tell me what to do?”
Liam’s eyes go dark at that and he starts palming his cock again, “I want you to open yourself up for me. Act like you’re getting yourself ready for my cock.”
Zayn shivers imperceptibly, popping open the lube and slicking his fingers up before reaching down and rubbing over his hole lightly, legs pulled back and opening him up to Liam’s gaze.
Liam hisses, stroking himself in long movements and Zayn watches, transfixed, while he rubs circles around the rim, muscle fluttering under the pads of his fingers. When he pushes a finger in, he revels in the burn, the look on Liam’s face as he watches him. He avoids his prostate completely, leaves it for when the toy’s inside of him.
By the time that Zayn is steadily rocking back on two of his fingers, making a show of it, Liam is panting, thrusting into his fist before he stills, hips making little aborted movements in sympathy, “Do you think you can take it yet?”
“Yeah,” Zayn murmurs as he pulls his fingers out of himself, clenching down on nothing while he scrambles for the dildo and slicks it up with the lube. He positions it, circling the head around the stretched rim of his hole, rubbing the raw nerves there, waiting for Liam’s instruction.
“Push it in for me, babe,” he says, “Slowly, I want to watch.”
Zayn nods and takes a deep breath before sliding the dildo in at an even pace, head thrown back as his body throbs in pleasure-pain until it reaches the thick base.
When he lifts his head back up to the camera, eyes bleary, Liam’s staring straight at where the toy is stretching Zayn open, hand working himself. He wets his lips, eyes never Zayn’s ass, “How do you feel?”
“Full,” Zayn mumbles, dazed, “S’good, though.”
“You can move it.”
And Zayn does, slowly at first, pulling it out until just the head’s inside, pushing it back in a little harder. It’s kind of weird, all the ribbing, the exaggerated veins and dips, but it rubs up against Zayn’s prostate so deliciously that he can’t be bothered. “Talk to me,” he breathes.
“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Liam grinds out, “All stretched out around it. Wish it was me filling you up.”
Zayn tries his best to make a noise or movement of assent, but by now he’s just fucking himself in earnest, grinding the toy into his sweet spot so hard that his toes curl.
“You should see it, you all spread out and fucking yourself for me. But it’s not as good as me, is it? Can’t fuck you as well as I can.”
Zayn whines, high in his throat and his cock throbs at Liam’s words, precome dribbling steadily where it’s laying neglected on his belly.
He can hear the sounds of Liam shuffling while his movements quicken, “Fuck, the next time we’re alone together we’re not doing anything before I bend you over and fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight.”
He’s close, Zayn can tell, so he grabs the base of the dildo hard, letting his hips roll into his hand while the head stabs against his prostate, “Fuck, I wanna come, please let me come, please,” he babbles.
“Yeah, yeah,” Liam says, “Me too, touch yourself for me.”
And Zayn does, wanking himself off furiously while he fucks himself on the dildo. He gets about three or four good strokes his balls draw up and he comes, hole bearing down hard around the plastic, come painting his chest.
He’s so drawn up in his afterglow that he almost forgets about Liam until he makes a wounded sound, and when he looks at the computer his eyes are drawn shut tight, mouth open as come dribbles over his fingers, muscles tense and hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.
He slumps back against the pillows, chest heaving as Zayn pulls the toy out, “I’ll be right back, need to go get cleaned up.”
Liam makes a vague gesture of acceptance, eyes closed while he regains his breathing.
When Zayn comes back, his eyes are still a bit glazed and his cheeks a little flushed, but he’s smiling and sated and Zayn wishes he were there, because, well, cuddles are kind of mandatory.
“That was exciting,” Liam says, all sleepy and sex-addled, “Thanks for doing that.”
Zayn shrugs, “It was just a teaser for when I see you next.”
“Oh?” Liam raises an eyebrow, then smiles, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Zayn says mid-yawn, “But I’m going to bed. You know how tired I get after an orgasm.”
Liam laughs, “Me too. Have a good rest. Love you.”
Zayn doesn’t realize he’s said it until he’s already hung the call up, but he smiles nonetheless.
Pairing: Liam/Zayn
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3,400
Summary: Skype sex. That’s all it is.
Warnings: Fluff and dildos.
Disclaimer: Not real. Not real in the slightest.
A/N: Because apparently, you give me an idea and I just fly with it. Title comes from the Spoon song of the same name. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy.
It’s nights like these when Zayn really misses tour.
Sure, he loves being on break. He loves seeing his mum and dad, loves being able to kiss his sisters before they go off to school, loves being able to rest and not wake up at some ungodly hour to go to another interview or get on another plane. It’s nice, sleeping in his own bed, not being surrounded by strangers, not being poked and prodded into perfect form.
Being home is great. But it doesn’t make him miss Liam any less.
And it’s ridiculous. It’s stupid, and absurd, and it makes Zayn feel like a nagging housewife because it’s not like he doesn’t see Liam for months on end. He’s only been home for a week, and he’s only got another two before they start press and studio again, so he really should be making the best of his time home. And he does. When he’s not pining.
Because as much as he likes being on break, it’s not the same. He’s gotten so used to Liam just being there all the time, to all of them being there, that turning around and not bumping into one of them is, truthfully, emotionally exhausting. Zayn misses the other boys, he does, but with Liam it’s different. With the other boys, he’s not waking up in a panic because the other side of the bed is cold.
Somewhere along the line, Liam turned him into a 13-year-old girl. Zayn’s accepted this.
But one of the worst things about it, one of the things that has Zayn counting down the days until he has to go back to work, is that he’s so, so tired of getting himself off. And it’s another absurd part about it, because Zayn has gotten himself off loads of times in his life - and this should be no different. But it is, it really is because before this he hadn’t experienced Liam’s hand or Liam’s mouth or his dick or, Jesus, Liam’s ass and now that he has, the prospect of coming without any of those things present is mildly disappointing.
It’s one of the few blessed nights where his house is empty, because even more rare than having a day to rest is having a day to himself, without friends and family coming to visit or his mum worrying after him or his sisters running around the house. His family is gone to another relative’s house a few hours away, Zayn opting to stay home and sleep for a while. And he had, at first, but now he’s just sulking.
He leans back against his headboard, head thunking against the hard wood as he rubs a hand across his stomach, and he’s just weighing the pros and cons of having another angsty, unsatisfying wank when his phone vibrates on the nightstand.
Liam Payne
If ur home u shuld get on skype :)
Zayn’s about to text back but it’s hard when he’s already scrambling to set get his MacBook, booting it up at a speed that Liam should never know about, ever.
Skype finally, finally loads, Liam calling seconds later and then he’s there, in his bedroom all the way in Wolverhampton, smiling kind of dopily and half-shy like he always does and Zayn does not swoon.
“Hey,” he says, and it’s quiet and the sound is shit, the murmur of a TV playing in the background and the picture is way too grainy, but it’s still Liam and Zayn hasn’t had a chance to see him since the airport and he’s perfect.
“Hi,” Zayn replies, adjusting the screen brightness and tilt so he can see better. It’s pretty late, past time for when people should be in bed but he supposes that they never really did end up getting off of tour-time. Liam’s kind of sprawled out on his bed, shirt off like he was about to go to sleep and it’s not helping Zayn’s situation any because he feels his cock stir almost instantly.
“Didn’t expect you to be home,” Liam says, smiling all soft and fond and Zayn wants to kiss him, hurts that he can’t.
Zayn shrugs, “Everyone’s out tonight. I just wanted a night to myself, you know?”
“Yeah,” Liam nods, face apprehensive, “Should I leave you to it, then?”
“What? No!” Zayn half-shouts, immediately embarrassed but Liam just smiles and continues on with the conversation.
“No one’s here, either,” he says, eyes flicking to what Zayn assumes is the television before Liam turns it off so Zayn can hear better, “I think they get that I just want to be alone for a bit. Besides you.”
And Zayn can’t help but smile at that, “Yeah.”
They chat for a while like that. Liam asks about how his family is and talks about what he’s done since he got home, how many times he’s woken up in the middle of the night expecting Niall to be pounding on the door asking where he’s put his phone. It’s nice, almost as comfortable as being face-to-face. They’ve texted every day since they saw each other, talked on the phone once or twice, but it’s nice to see Liam, to know he looks alright and that he’s okay, and he might not be able to touch or smell or kiss him, but it’s a good compromise.
They’re about an hour into their conversation and Liam’s halfway through a story about how he almost made it through a supermarket queue without being recognized when his phone rings from across the room.
“Shit,” Liam says, distracted, “Hold on,” and he throws the sheet off from where it was been covering his lower half, stumbling off his bed to answer. Zayn vaguely hears him greet the person on the other end, but is ultimately too distracted because not only was Liam shirtless, but he’s not wearing trousers, either. And it shouldn’t be a surprise, Zayn’s known he only wears his underwear to sleep even before they got together, but Zayn’s horny as all fuck and he it doesn’t help when he can see the curve of Liam’s ass and the shape of his cock through the thin material.
He almost feels creepy, and he shouldn’t because he’s seen Liam buckass nude on many occasions, but it’s different because all that Liam’s wanted to do is talk, and Zayn loves that, and he should be enjoying it and not ogling. Plus, Zayn is almost sure that if Liam wanted something to happen, he’d initiate it. He does when they’re together, anyway.
He hangs up and flops back down on his bed, tilting his laptop back into position. He doesn’t bother with the sheet this time, instead lying up on his side, leaning on an elbow and Zayn can see everything. The muscles in Liam’s arms and the slim trail of hair leading down into his boxer-briefs, the line of his dick where it’s nestled between his thighs, and he wants to cry because Liam is such a little tease, even when he doesn’t know it.
“Sorry about that,” he says, “It was just mum telling me they wouldn’t be home to- are you alright?”
Liam’s looking at him worriedly, like he’s afraid Zayn’s about to get sick and he wants to come through the screen and take care of him, and Zayn flushes because that is definitely not the problem, “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You look kind of red and your eyes are all glazed like you’ve got a fever and -“, Liam’s face suddenly drops and his mouth falls open, “Oh. Wait, Zayn, are you…?”
Zayn panics and decides the best course of action is to act like he has no idea what Liam’s talking about, “Am I what?”
“It’s just, uh,” Liam scratches behind his ear and scrubs a hand over his face, “That’s kind of how you look when we’re, you know.”
Nope, Zayn doesn’t know, “When we’re what?”
Liam tries to make an exasperated face but he just ends up looking distressed, “It’s how you look when we’re in bed. Not just in bed, but like, you know… doing stuff.”
“Doing stuff?”
“Zayn,” he says, obviously getting irritated and Zayn would give in if he weren’t so embarrassed, “When we’re fucking. Your face looks like that when you’re horny.”
“Oh.”
“Yep.”
They both pause, Liam looking at Zayn intently while Zayn looks anywhere but, wondering if there’s a way he could possibly get out of this Skype call without Liam getting mad but he interrupts.
“So, are you?”
“Am I horny?”
“Yeah.”
He’s not judging, not at all, he looks sweet and just like he always does, but with a hint of something that Zayn can’t place.
“It’s not my fault, okay? You’re nearly naked, and it’s been a week, and I’m even though I’m almost 20 I’m still technically a teenager -“
“Hey,” Liam says softly, “Not judging. I get it.”
And he looks so sincere that Zayn makes a little aborted noise in his throat because sometimes he still can’t believe that Liam is his, that he hasn’t made all this up and that it isn’t a sick, cruel joke that the universe is playing on him. So he just nods, unable to keep the smile from slinking onto his face.
It’s quiet until Liam speaks up again, “So, do you want to do something about it?”
Zayn just stares back, mouth agape, but he did not expect that. “You’re serious?”
“Well, yeah. Watching you has kind of got me the same way, you know.”
Zayn’s eyes trail down to where Liam’s cock is pressing hard against his underwear and he’s pretty sure his mouth waters when Liam reaches down to adjust himself, fingers wrapping around his shaft through the black fabric.
“Christ, Li,” he breathes, “I don’t even know how to go about this.”
Liam shrugs, “Just get your clothes off and we’ll figure it out.”
Zayn nods, unsure of what to do first, and he finally fumbles with his zipper. It’s awkward, it’s not sexy in the least, but Liam stares the entire time so he figures he must be doing something right.
When he sits back in front of his computer, Liam’s sitting up, far enough back so that Zayn can see to the tops of his thighs, legs spread on either side of his computer. He’s washed out from his monitor’s light but Zayn can still see him pretty clearly, can see his hand moving slowly on himself through his underwear again, and his breath catches in his throat.
Zayn still doesn’t know what on Earth he’s doing, but he’s pretty sure he knows the next logical step, “We should take these off, too,” he says, gesturing to his underwear.
“You first,” Liam says, hand still moving, “Want to watch you.”
Zayn nods awkwardly before pulling his briefs down by the waistband, his hard cock slapping up against his stomach.
“Christ,” Liam breathes, “Fuck, I miss you. Okay,” Zayn watches him slide his pants down, slowly, too slowly, sliding down over his cock until it pops up from being released. He pulls his legs up and slides them the rest of the way down, tossing them across the room and then he’s thankfully, blessedly naked and all that Zayn can do is stare for a minute.
Liam laughs, “See something you like?” Then does this ambiguous little faux-sexy pose that makes the tension in Zayn’s body drain because this is still just Liam, and even though he’s never done this, it’s not like it’s anyone he’s uncomfortable around or that he doesn’t trust implicitly.
Liam scoots back a little, leaning up against his pillows and Zayn follows so they’re in about the same position, so that Liam can see him clearly.
Liam takes himself in hand, fingers wrapping around his cock and giving himself a few long strokes and then gestures for Zayn to do the same, and it’s good, touching himself is always good, but it’s still a little awkward.
“Just relax,” Liam says, closing his eyes and leaning back against the headboard, “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“You,” Zayn says without thinking, stroking a little quicker, little drips of precome already easing the slide, “The last time we fucked, in that hotel room when the boys were out drinking.”
“Mm, yeah,” Liam breathes, running his thumb over the head of his cock, “That was really good. D’you know what my favorite part of that was?”
“What?”
“When you let me come inside you,” he says, conversationally, like he’s not jerking himself off, and Zayn has to clamp a hand down around the base of his cock just to keep from coming right then and there, “How you were dripping with me afterward.”
“Jesus Christ,” Zayn breathes, moving his other hand down so he can roll his balls and stroke a dry finger over his hole, gasping at the contact and rutting shamelessly into his hand.
“Fuck,” Liam says, “Have you unpacked yet?”
Zayn’s hands still and he gapes, incredulous, “Really? Is now the time?”
“Just Answer, Zayn,” he grits out, “Please.”
“I haven’t, alright? But now is not the time for you to act like my mum -“
“Check in the zipper in the main compartment, under where your t-shirts are.”
Zayn blinks at him, “You know, when most guys’ boyfriends are about to finger themselves in front of them, they don’t interrupt.”
“Just do it, Zayn.”
Zayn huffs, “Fine, crazy fuck,” He stands, horny and irritated, cock still aching for attention as he walks over and digs through his suitcase, digging under his remaining clothes until he gets to the zip compartment and pulls out something long and hard and oh, god. He knows what that is.
They bought it on a whim, when they had a day off and ended up wandering into a seedy sex shop that they had to actually sneak into to not get photographed. They weren’t even shopping, really, just browsing and looking for some kind of inspiration, maybe, and then Liam saw it and talked him into it.
And that’s how they came to be the owners of a bright blue, sparkly dildo.
It’s not huge, smaller than Liam’s cock, and they only ended up using it once, when they had more time on their hands than usual and Liam could lick him open slowly, fuck him with the dildo until he was writhing and begging to come. Zayn feels a new surge of heat fill his belly at the memory.
Liam looks apprehensive when Zayn sits back down on his bed, hands stiff by his sides, dick wilting to half-hard during the wait. Zayn holds up the dildo, “Wonder how this got in there.”
“Listen, you don’t have to -“
“But you want me to fuck myself with it for you.”
Liam opens his mouth like he’s going to deny it, but ends up snapping his jaw shut and nodding. “But you don’t have to, we can go back to -“
But Zayn’s already leaning over to where his lube is stuffed under the mattress, retrieving it and holding it up with the dildo, “Okay.”
“Jesus,” Liam says, “I mean, really?”
Zayn shrugs, “Of course,” and Liam looks at him like his heart is about to explode out of his chest so Zayn decides to milk it a little more, leaning back against the pillows and angling his hips up so Liam can see everything, “Why don’t you tell me what to do?”
Liam’s eyes go dark at that and he starts palming his cock again, “I want you to open yourself up for me. Act like you’re getting yourself ready for my cock.”
Zayn shivers imperceptibly, popping open the lube and slicking his fingers up before reaching down and rubbing over his hole lightly, legs pulled back and opening him up to Liam’s gaze.
Liam hisses, stroking himself in long movements and Zayn watches, transfixed, while he rubs circles around the rim, muscle fluttering under the pads of his fingers. When he pushes a finger in, he revels in the burn, the look on Liam’s face as he watches him. He avoids his prostate completely, leaves it for when the toy’s inside of him.
By the time that Zayn is steadily rocking back on two of his fingers, making a show of it, Liam is panting, thrusting into his fist before he stills, hips making little aborted movements in sympathy, “Do you think you can take it yet?”
“Yeah,” Zayn murmurs as he pulls his fingers out of himself, clenching down on nothing while he scrambles for the dildo and slicks it up with the lube. He positions it, circling the head around the stretched rim of his hole, rubbing the raw nerves there, waiting for Liam’s instruction.
“Push it in for me, babe,” he says, “Slowly, I want to watch.”
Zayn nods and takes a deep breath before sliding the dildo in at an even pace, head thrown back as his body throbs in pleasure-pain until it reaches the thick base.
When he lifts his head back up to the camera, eyes bleary, Liam’s staring straight at where the toy is stretching Zayn open, hand working himself. He wets his lips, eyes never Zayn’s ass, “How do you feel?”
“Full,” Zayn mumbles, dazed, “S’good, though.”
“You can move it.”
And Zayn does, slowly at first, pulling it out until just the head’s inside, pushing it back in a little harder. It’s kind of weird, all the ribbing, the exaggerated veins and dips, but it rubs up against Zayn’s prostate so deliciously that he can’t be bothered. “Talk to me,” he breathes.
“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Liam grinds out, “All stretched out around it. Wish it was me filling you up.”
Zayn tries his best to make a noise or movement of assent, but by now he’s just fucking himself in earnest, grinding the toy into his sweet spot so hard that his toes curl.
“You should see it, you all spread out and fucking yourself for me. But it’s not as good as me, is it? Can’t fuck you as well as I can.”
Zayn whines, high in his throat and his cock throbs at Liam’s words, precome dribbling steadily where it’s laying neglected on his belly.
He can hear the sounds of Liam shuffling while his movements quicken, “Fuck, the next time we’re alone together we’re not doing anything before I bend you over and fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight.”
He’s close, Zayn can tell, so he grabs the base of the dildo hard, letting his hips roll into his hand while the head stabs against his prostate, “Fuck, I wanna come, please let me come, please,” he babbles.
“Yeah, yeah,” Liam says, “Me too, touch yourself for me.”
And Zayn does, wanking himself off furiously while he fucks himself on the dildo. He gets about three or four good strokes his balls draw up and he comes, hole bearing down hard around the plastic, come painting his chest.
He’s so drawn up in his afterglow that he almost forgets about Liam until he makes a wounded sound, and when he looks at the computer his eyes are drawn shut tight, mouth open as come dribbles over his fingers, muscles tense and hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.
He slumps back against the pillows, chest heaving as Zayn pulls the toy out, “I’ll be right back, need to go get cleaned up.”
Liam makes a vague gesture of acceptance, eyes closed while he regains his breathing.
When Zayn comes back, his eyes are still a bit glazed and his cheeks a little flushed, but he’s smiling and sated and Zayn wishes he were there, because, well, cuddles are kind of mandatory.
“That was exciting,” Liam says, all sleepy and sex-addled, “Thanks for doing that.”
Zayn shrugs, “It was just a teaser for when I see you next.”
“Oh?” Liam raises an eyebrow, then smiles, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Zayn says mid-yawn, “But I’m going to bed. You know how tired I get after an orgasm.”
Liam laughs, “Me too. Have a good rest. Love you.”
Zayn doesn’t realize he’s said it until he’s already hung the call up, but he smiles nonetheless.