one direction: crossdressing fic
pairing: zayn/niall
words: 3,167
warnings: feminization, unfinished, unbeta'd, literally stashed here to show some tumblr-folk.
Niall picks Zayn up from the airport after several weeks of vacation away from London, and in public they greet with enthusiastic hugs and cheek kisses. On the drive home however, there's a tangible tension, a running current of nervous energy beneath Niall's usual happiness that Zayn picks up on deftly. He knows what it is, and rubs his thumb soothingly over Niall's knuckles as Niall taps the fingers of his other hand against the steering wheel impatiently. Zayn can only swoop in to kiss him, chaste, at stoplights.
Once home, Niall immediately excuses himself to the adjoining bathroom of Zayn's bedroom. Zayn shucks his clothes and flops gratefully into bed, groaning his relief, rubbing his eyes. He listens to the water run in the other room and actively works to calm his breathing down. When Niall comes out of the bathroom to find Zayn half-asleep, Zayn can see the disappointment writ plainly into his face and posture.
"Tell you what," he murmurs, stopping Niall in his tracks. "Why don't you get dressed for me, hm?"
The words have a visible effect on Niall; his whole body bows, a dozen nearly imperceptible, instant contractions that serve to make him look apprehensive, but the flush rising in his cheeks belays his sudden hope. "But-"
"Nothing tonight, but indulge me anyway," Zayn says, as though it’s he who needs indulging and not Niall. It’s been several weeks; he can’t imagine how bad Niall must be itching for it.
Niall doesn't argue further. He disappears for a handful of minutes and comes back done up for Zayn: high-waisted, royal blue satin panties and a black garter belt, black garters, and a matching lace camisole. "Gorgeous," Zayn smiles, quiet, lifting back the covers and beckoning Niall in. Niall beams and wriggles up along Zayn, his back to Zayn's bare chest, trying to hide his glee but practically vibrating with it. Zayn can't help but drop a kiss to the shell of Niall's ear, admiring the skinny, glossy dark straps of the shirt against his pale shoulders.
He slides a hand down Niall's thigh and back up again, fingers sifting through the blonde, coarse hair there. "My pretty girl," Zayn whispers, unable to stop the sudden heat in his voice. Niall pushes back into him in response to the praise, eager, not even trying to stifle the moan that spills, heavy and fervid, out of him. Zayn feels himself go dizzy with how intoxicating that is, how he knows Niall's blush is turning dark and spreading down his chest. He buries his face against the back of Niall's neck, breathing deeply, shutting his eyes and nuzzling his nose among the fine hairs.
His hand continues up, after a pause, up muscle that’s positively trembling with excitement, to cup Niall's cock through the satin, hot and almost fully hard just from being in his special clothes. Zayn caresses Niall lightly through the panties-Zayn’s favorite pair, as they’ve got flirtatious side ties that he enjoys tugging, lets himself be momentarily hypnotized by the continuous encouraging noises Niall's letting loose.
After lazily teasing enough to get Niall nice and wet (enough to have Zayn hard as well, grinding slow and close against Niall's ass) Zayn pulls his hand back. He kisses the side of Niall's neck, humming against the soft, heated skin. Niall arches back and whines, but to no avail. Zayn only strokes his side soothingly. "In the morning," he whispers, "I promise."
The morning comes later than Zayn had expected it to; when he cracks open one crusty eye and looks at the clock on their nightstand, it reads 11:04am. It’s more sleep than he’s gotten in a while, though, he knows he needs it. He feels lazy and heavy, and when he rolls over he’s not surprised to find Niall gone from the bed. He reaches out and feels the sheets-cold, no lingering trace of Niall’s warmth. Though still mostly defunct, Zayn starts to feel the arousal he was too tired to pursue last night, wants to give Niall a proper good morning.
After hauling himself from the bed, splashing some cold water on his face, and brushing his teeth (Niall hates morning breath), he goes off to find Niall and the pervading smell of breakfast, suspecting he’ll find both in one place.
Niall is, in fact, in the kitchen, hip jutted to the side while he waits in front of the stove to flip the cooking pancakes, spatula held aloft in preparation. More than that, Niall has changed into an intricate cotton lace dress, white, with a scooped back. In the morning light coming through the bay windows he looks like some sort of exquisite angel, the dress falling tantalizingly to the middle of his thighs.
Zayn sweeps up behind him, cinching his hands around the meat of Niall’s torso. He leans forward to peck a kiss to Niall’s nape before settling his chin in the crook of Niall’s shoulder and asking, “This is new, isn’t it?”
He can feel Niall's skin heat up with his blush. “Yeah, it is,” he answers, trying for neutral.
“You went shopping? Without me?” Zayn asks, only partly feigning the sadness. He gets a right thrill out of helping Niall shop for ladies clothing.
Niall shrugs Zayn’s head off. “You’re seein’ it now aren’t ya? It was meant to be a surprise for last night. Before your flight got delayed.” He sounds far too dejected for Zayn’s liking, so Zayn takes his wrist and pulls him from the stove, twirling him around.
“I am very surprised,” he remarks, voice lowering, eyes trailing with obvious intent up and down Niall, taking note the delightful patterns the lace makes, so ornate, and the scalloped neckline that leaves Niall’s collarbones exposed for appreciation.
Niall’s blush darkens across his nose and he bites his lip, head tucking towards his chest, so shy when he’s dressed up this way. “You like it?”
“Like it? I love it,” Zayn says, tugging Niall towards him. “You look gorgeous, swear.”
“The pancakes are gonna burn,” Niall murmurs.
“Sod the pancakes,” Zayn says, twisting to switch off the burner.
“Regret that when your stomach is growling,” Niall says, but it’s a testament to his desperation that he doesn’t insist they eat first.
Zayn moves in and sighs against Niall’s temple. “Pouting last night because I was tired, pouting this morning because I’m horny and you look fit to be ravished. Honestly, Niall.” Niall mumbles something indecipherable in reply and Zayn lets his hands drift down to the swell of Niall’s ass, fingertips tracing along the eyelets of the lace. “Lucky for you, I know what you need,” Zayn whispers, punctuating the remark by biting the curve of skin and muscle between Niall’s neck and shoulder, long enough to last through the initial flash of pain and build a burn. Niall groans and gives up, tossing his spatula onto the counter. Hearing the clatter of it, Zayn smiles. “Good girl,” he murmurs, licking over the bite mark.
Niall goes boneless at that, sinking back against the countertop, leaning on his elbows and allowing Zayn to follow, push right up into his space and get his hands all over him. Zayn pets down Niall’s sides, rubs circles across his hips before flitting up to tweak Niall’s nipples through the dress. Niall curses loudly and Zayn mouths sloppy kisses along his throat until he finds Niall’s pulse point, sucking the skin and tonguing over it feverishly. Niall’s fingers close around the edge of the counter, knuckles turning from red to white.
“Someone’s excited,” Zayn observes airily, skimming his lips up across Niall’s jawline. “Did you miss this?”
“Yes,” Niall answers, without hesitation, but not exactly bold, either. Zayn makes an inquisitive noise, catching the split tone. “Haven’t properly got off since the last time,” he confesses with a shallow pant. “Just dreams, accidents.”
Zayn lets out a small moan of his own, pressing his forehead to Niall’s, because that’s fucking hot, right? While Niall may not have the most voracious sexual appetite out of all of them, he’s always been easy and open about satisfying his needs. Never seen a point to abstaining, so the idea that he did for Zayn. Well. “Oh,” he says against Niall’s mouth, “Fuck, you are so good for me. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” Niall breathes. “Jus’ wanted to.”
“Why don’t we take this to bed, then?”
Zayn pinches Niall’s ass as he guides him back to bed, arranges him carefully at the edge of it, then drops to his knees between Niall’s legs. Zayn runs his hands up from Niall’s fine ankles along his calves to his thighs reverently, grinning devilishly as he drops a kiss to one bony knee, the bad one. He looks up at Niall’s face, which is anxious, and a feeling of tenderness blooms in the heat of his belly. He leans up enough to catch Niall’s chin in his hand. “You’re beautiful,” he says, softly, and finds that he means it, completely. “My beautiful girl.”
He licks the backs of his own teeth, tasting the truth of his words as he watches Niall’s sheepish blush. Ever thoughtful, Niall grants Zayn a sweet kiss. “Thank you,” he says, and Zayn knows it’s genuine gratitude despite the impatient push of Niall’s hips.
Zayn smiles. Sinking back down, he pushes the lacy hem of the dress up gradually, exposing slender, pale thigh as he goes, Niall’s legs spreading wider and wider with every afforded inch until the dress is rucked up around his hips. He looks debauched and indecent already. He’s in soft cotton panties for the day, white with some black, floral pattern and satin trim, complete with a small, demure black bow. Zayn grips Niall’s cock through them, enjoying Niall’s bitten-back curse, and works towards the head of it until he’s thumbing at the slit through the material, gauging the dampness. “Nice and wet for me I see,” he observes without looking up, “but I know you can do better.”
“I can,” Niall agrees, planting his hands firmly on the bed behind him and closing his eyes.
“That’s right,” Zayn says, withdrawing his hand. “So why don’t you tell me what you’ve been thinking of lately?” He begins drifting his fingertips up and down the inside of Niall’s straining legs, feeling the muscles jump. He trails close, so close to Niall’s cock and then away again, sometimes deviating to stroke down Niall’s perineum, receiving abortive little hip thrusts each time.
Niall makes a pleased sound, a warm kittenish noise in his chest, before answering. “You.”
Zayn turns his face into Niall’s thigh and idly drags his teeth across it. “What about me?” he asks, pressing his stubbled cheek into the resulting shiver.
“Fucking me,” Niall answers quickly, not shy about this much. Wanting Zayn has never been something for him to hide.
“How?” Zayn presses, determined, curious. Predictably, Niall purses his lips and sighs through his nose. Zayn drums his fingers along the ridge of Niall’s hipbone and raises his eyebrows, waiting.
“Over a, a sort of, desk,” Niall bites out at length. “From behind.”
“Excellent,” Zayn smiles.
“In, ah, in heels,” Niall’s words catch as Zayn takes it upon himself to scrape his stubble along the juncture of Niall’s thigh and groin with a little more force. “Stilettos, red.” The words sound like they’ve practically been put through a curler in Niall’s thickening accent. Zayn processes the information carefully. Niall hasn’t tried heels besides the one time in Australia as a joke. He’s remained more wary of shoe stores than anything else. “And a, nn-ecklace, fuck, pearls, maybe,” his breathing sharpens as Zayn noses down to tongue at Niall’s balls through the panties.
“And,” Zayn prompts between rough licks.
“And you told me I was fit, a fit bird, and you, ah,” Niall’s voice is growing smaller with shame, his admissions stopping and starting unevenly.
Zayn moves up to nuzzle Niall’s tense belly, still covered by the dress. “It’s just me here,” he reminds Niall. “You can tell me anything.”
“I know,” Niall says, eye still shut. “I know.” He’s quiet for a minute, until Zayn begins to tickle his sides lightly. Despite the tension, Niall can’t help a burst of laughter, his smile loose and cheeks crimson. “Okay, okay,” he coughs, rushed, before Zayn can turn it into a full-on tickle war. “You just talked to me,” Niall tries weakly. Zayn doesn’t even deign it worthy of a response, opting instead to reach up and pinch Niall’s nipple. Niall jerks and then groans in frustration. “You said things like. That you loved my tits, how they fit in your hands. And, just. How tight my, my cunt was... and stuff.”
“And stuff,” Zayn repeats, trying to hold out for more.
“Zayn,” Niall begs, a warning lurking in his breathless voice. Zayn relents, pulling back with a quick kiss to Niall’s stomach.
“We can do all these things, you know. The heels, the pearls, the talk.” Niall opens his eyes, somehow manages to appear both relieved and uncomfortable. Zayn grins with teeth, “You’d look fit as fuck.”
Niall lets out another bark of laughter, relaxing, but soon after his eyebrows knit together and he arches his back, hips canting. “Zayn, please.”
“So bossy,” Zayn chides, specifically to get an indignant squawk out of Niall. “Let’s see how you’re doing.” He tip-toes his fingers down the contours of Niall’s body until he arrives at the bulge of his cock straining against the underwear. He tests the now-visible wet patch, rolling the sticky fabric between his forefinger and thumb, humming in concentration. “Much better,” he says, peering up at Niall from beneath his lashes, feeling predatory. “I know just what I want to do to you.”
“What?” Niall gasps, trying in vain to suppress a shudder.
Zayn drags the tip of his nose along the glossy ribbon of the underwear, pausing in the middle to suck the tiny bow into his mouth and flick it with his tongue, his throat working just above Niall’s erection. “I’m going to make you come in these panties,” he confides smugly. “I’m not going to stop until you’ve made them totally filthy, absolutely dripping.” He doesn’t miss the low “Jesus Christ” that works its way from between Niall’s gritted teeth. “Turn over, get on your hands and knees,” he says, adopting an authoritative tone that brooks no room for argument.
Niall complies without fuss for that voice, turning over in one fluid motion and moving up the bed to make room for Zayn behind him. He drops his head between his arms, resting it in the crooks of his elbows, hands clasping together as if in prayer. The rest of his body leans back towards Zayn, seeking touch or direction. The dress clings to Niall’s chest still, but hangs down loosely from his torso, letting Zayn get an eyeful of Niall’s stretching abdomen, ribs pushing against flushed skin as he sucks in uneven breaths.
“Perfect,” Zayn says, scratching his dull nails up the backs of Niall’s thighs, over the light imprints from being pressed into the mattress. Zayn’s fingers follow the line of Niall’s muscles up to the curve of his ass, where they spread out and his palms cup the cheeks in obvious appreciation, squeezing before moving on. He drapes himself over Niall’s back, whispers into Niall’s ear, “I’m going to eat your little cunt out until you've completely soaked these panties through." He pulls an arm back to skate his hand up under the dress to where it tightens across Niall’s chest. His nimble fingers seek out a nipple, scraping over it first and then pinching the stiffened nub with gradually increasing pressure until Niall moans, rocking his forehead back and forth over his forearms, hissing his approval out from harshly bitten lips. “Nice tits, doll,” Zayn grins against the back of Niall’s shoulder.
“Ah, fuck you,” Niall grunts, but arches his back needily, ceding more of his weight and letting Zayn hold him up.
“Naughty girl,” Zayn all but purrs, releasing his grip on Niall’s nipple and nuzzling down the knobs of his spine. “Foul language is not the best way to get what you want.” Even though it is, because Zayn loves listening to Niall swear.
Working his way lower, Zayn slides a finger under the edge of the panties and drags them over to the right, exposing Niall’s left cheek entirely along with the crease of his ass. Niall shifts, spreading his knees open wider, and Zayn takes the offering, pushing right from left until he can see the flushed pucker of Niall's hole.
Holding the panties aside with one hand, Zayn leans in and skims the bare cheek with his teeth, enjoying how smooth it is despite the light peppering of hair. He takes his time, stopping here and there to plant a kiss, press a bite, and then lave over the sting of it gently before moving on. When Niall is shaking head to toe, whimpering every time Zayn leaves another mark, Zayn turns his attention to Niall’s hole, ghosting warm breath over it to start, one hand keeping the panties in line, the other anchored tightly at the jut of Niall’s waist.
“Will you please get on with it?” Niall pleads, voice ragged.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Zayn chirps, “that’s not how this operation works. I do what I want, when I want.” Niall almost growls, biting into the flesh of his own forearm to stymie the noise.
“Tell me how horny you are,” he says, sultry and completely at ease.
“Innit obvious?” Niall retorts, pushing back.
“Don’t get brave,” Zayn chastises with an affected indifference.
“Fuckin’ horny, okay, I’m fuckin’ dyin’,” Niall forfeits.
“Good,” Zayn says. The hand that’s at Niall’s waist drifts underneath, feeling across his quivering stomach and then downwards, into Niall’s panties for the first time. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, fingers wrapping loose around Niall’s slick cock. Niall bucks mindlessly into the touch, a moan wrenched from him. “Niall, you are so fucking wet,” Zayn praises, slightly astonished. When he draws his hand out, it glistens, and he stretches up to smear two fingers against Niall’s lips. “Taste yourself.”
Niall takes Zayn’s fingers in, immediately hollowing out his cheeks around them, licking his own precome from them with expertise. Zayn groans at the feel of Niall’s hot, velvet mouth and the brutal suction he applies, the way he nips at Zayn’s fingertips, the scrape of his braces against Zayn’s knuckles. His own want catches up with him, he grinds his erection against Niall’s waiting ass, indulging in the dizzying sensation for a moment or two before collecting himself. He pulls his fingers from Niall’s mouth, trailing spit across his hot face, down to rest at his waist again.
Zayn does get on with it then, more for his benefit than Niall’s, really, his cock aching in his briefs.