Archive of Our Own

“You stink.”

Liam smiles to himself.  He sorts that Zayn probably sniffed him out at least five kilometers ago but he hasn’t moved.  Not one bit.  He keeps his back to Liam, sat on the edge of the peak overlooking the city.

“So this is what the view is like up here,” Liam says, keeping his voice easy and light.

Zayn huffs, shoulders barely lifting for a shrug.  He’s hunched over, watching.

It’s what Zayn does―observe.

He keeps to the shadows.  Doesn’t say much, at least not around anyone other than Liam.  A loner, in his own mind.  But he has a pack.  A faithful one, too.  They’d tear out an army’s throat for him.

(Which is kinda scary, considering, but Liam reckons he’s not the enemy so he’s safe.  For now.)

It’s sad.  Liam gathers Zayn never asked for that role―an Alpha.

Then again, have any of them asked for the life (or lack thereof) tossed on them?

Liam, frankly, doesn’t remember seeing the sign-up sheet for this neat little gift (it’s a curse, curse, curse) given to him a very long time ago.

“You smell like,” Zayn pauses and Liam can already imagine the scowl crinkling all of his features, “Like them.”

Liam chuckles, easing closer.  It’s mid-October and the air is the right kick of chill and warmth.  He feels it under his clothes, across every inch of his skin.  Right along the nape of his neck, where the collar of his trench is flipped up.

Another sad thought―Liam doesn’t feel much.  Not since he was Turned.

But that was a long, long time ago.

He doesn’t remember the feel of his mum’s kiss or how hot a London sun could be along his face.

“Sorry ‘m late,” Liam offers in way of an apology, finally flopping down next to Zayn.  “The Coven…”

“Don’t really fancy hearing anything about them,” Zayn grunts.

Liam snorts.  Fair enough.

Even with his scowl, Zayn’s canines begin to poke up and out.  They make his lips pouty.  Bloody kissable if Liam’s being honest.  But he has half a mind not to bother drolling over how he wouldn’t mind snogging Zayn for a bit.

There’s time for that―hopefully.

”What would you prefer we chat about?”

“Dunno,” Zayn frowns.  “I like―I like hearing you talk, though.”

Again, Liam’s lips lift involuntarily.  Zayn is a right prat.  He’s stubborn and petulant and the sort of lad Liam just can’t get his mind off of.  It’s bloody ridiculous.  How a fucking werewolf has Liam so captivated, ready to lose all of his bloody marbles is beyond Liam.

But he would―he’d set fire to that damn city if it meant keeping Zayn near.

It might take that, one day.

Another loaded thought Liam would prefer not muddle around with.

“You’ve just a few nights ‘til full moon then?” Liam asks, conversationally.

Zayn’s grin has always been a bit crooked.  Since he was a wee one.  Liam ought to know―he’s seen photos in Zayn’s phone.  It pushes at his cheeks, sets these tight wrinkles around his eyes.  Quite distracting.

Liam loves it.

“Should be a mad one.”

“I’ve sorted.”

“Can I see you… before I shift?”

Liam beams, tipping his head back.  The sky is a civil war of silvers and purples and this smoggy blue colour that reminds Liam of blueberries just before they’re ripe.  A quarter moon sits pale and distant amongst the clouds.  Nearly there.

“S’ppose I can manage summat,” Liam says, teasingly.

Zayn punches his arm.  Liam doesn’t retaliate.  It doesn’t hurt, though Liam knows Zayn could put a hole through a wall with his strength.

But he controls it with Liam.  He’s always in control with Liam.  Out of his bloody mind when he shifts into the wolf, when he’s let loose in the night―but it all slows for Liam.

Maybe Liam is his gravity.  Maybe Liam is his orbit.

Liam never wants to know.  That sort of power is terrifying.

“What d’ya have in mind?”

Again, Zayn’s canines push at his lips when he smiles.  They nearly poke out, as much as Zayn tries to hide them.  Sometimes he can’t.  Usually just before he shifts or when his rage itches red hot all over.

Sometimes Zayn looks like a right Normal.  One of them.  The regulars not cursed (or blessed according to Liam’s clan) with this disease.  This infectious blood strain that Liam loves and hates at his worst times.

“Hyde Park?  Could run for a bit?”

Liam snorts, leaning back for a fuller look at the sky.  “Why Malik, sounds as if you’re trying to chat me up.  A proper date and all?”

Zayn blushes and Liam loves the sight of it.  The way the blood moves through Zayn.  Kisses at his skin until he’s pink and gold at once.  Softens his features.

Liam can only blush after feeding, and barely then.

“You make it sound horrible.”

“Hardly,” Liam hums.  “I rather fancy the thought.”

“Of dating… me?”

“Of anything with you, Malik,” Liam smirks, tilting his head to give Zayn his full attention.  “I fancy every bit of you, lad.”

Even with his head ducked, Zayn’s eyes glow.  Honey-orange.  The right glint of gold and flecks of tangerine.  It’s maddening, just the look of it.

Liam’s eyes always glow pale blue, nearly silver.  Even when he feeds.  He’s not quite like the other vampires―that level of blood thirst is low, immeasurable inside of Liam.  Maybe it’s all the hiding he does.  The way he walks amongst Normals like he could be one of them again.

He can’t.

But Zayn’s eyes are so fascinating.  Sometimes, when he’s in heat and Liam has him pressed to a wall, submissive and willing, Zayn’s eyes shift to red.

Crimson.  Like blood.

Liam’s fucking sick over it then.  Bloody uncontrollable.

It always ends in neat scratches along Zayn’s back, Liam’s lips swollen from slurping happily around Zayn’s cock, his body drained from Zayn pulling him off hurriedly.

Friction and fascination, two of Liam’s favorite F-words.  All provided by Zayn Malik.

Zayn scoots closer.  Liam doesn’t say a thing.

Zayn is always so warm, his skin naturally hot to the touch.  Liam is always cold.  Cold and pale.  But Zayn makes him feel warm and full.

He smells like autumn leaves and pumpkins and the earth.  Warm scents.  Liam stinks of aristocrats and copper.  The smell of royalty and blood.

“I hate when you’re like this.”

“Hmm?”

“You think too much, mate.”

“Maybe you should think more,” Liam counters, not a hint of bite to his words.  He’s smiling.  Of course, he is.

Bloody Zayn Malik.

“I think plenty,” Zayn argues, weakly.  “I just don’t brood about it.”

“Bullshit,” Liam laughs.  “You brood plenty.  You’re the perfect definition of broody.  If they made a cologne and called it Broody, it’d smell like you.”

“Okay, mate, that was weak,” Zayn snorts.

Liam chuckles, nodding.  “Might’ve been.”

“Try harder next time.”

Liam leans in close, his cold lips skimming those scratchy bristles of Zayn’s scruff.  “I’m quite good at doing things harder, aren’t I?”

Again, Zayn huffs, shaking his head.  His thick eyelashes do little to hide the amber glow of his eyes.

They’re a second or two from going red and then Liam could have his way.  He could unbutton those bloody skintight trousers and push Zayn down in the dirt just to―

Zayn stiffens, his guard going up.  He jerks back from Liam, scowling.  He gets to his feet, sharp yellow eyes gone squinty as he looks around.

Liam feels it, too.  Careless is what he is.  So caught up in this lad, this bloody werewolf that he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings.  His head all foggy, thinking about shagging Zayn and he nearly didn’t hear the movement in the trees until it’s too late.

“Is this really how you’re going to waste your time?  With a mutt?”

Liam sighs dramatically, shaking his head.

“Tommo―”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t quite get the appeal,” Louis says, hopping down from a tree limb.  His trench flaps around like a black cloak, his neatly tailored black suit pulling tightly against his small frame.  To complete the look, Louis’ hair is gelled and quiffed to an inch of perfection.  “He’s a puppy.”

Zayn growls, the noise rattling around in his chest like a caged supernova.

Liam quickly reaches out, fingers catching in a tuft of Zayn’s hair.  He pulls gently, trying to calm Zayn before he shifts.

“Tommo,” Liam repeats, exasperated, “What have I told you about following me?  You’re being a creeper.”

“And you’re being daft,” Louis spits back.  He’s glaring at Zayn and Liam would rather not look at Zayn to see what he’s doing.

He just keeps his fingers in Zayn’s thick, dark hair, pulling and calming.

Thank fuck for these bloody vampire senses―he can hear Zayn’s heartbeat slowing down behind his ribcage.

Mark one positive in the Being a Vampire column.

“Stop being a prat, Tommo,” Liam fusses, his thumb working down the base of Zayn’s skull.  He’s seeking out the heat―Zayn’s body is like a bonfire.

Wave after wave of heat.

“We’re just chatting.”

Louis snorts obnoxiously.  “Looks like bloody more than that, lad.  Don’t s’ppose Countess Calder would be too happy―”

“Not quite interested in what she thinks,” Liam snaps.

He’s not one to lean on authority.  On class or pecking order.  Those sorts of things are left to the Old Ones.  Liam’s quite finished with the hierarchy bullshit that muddles up the vampire lifestyle.  Louis is one for tradition and Liam (quite obviously since he was five seconds away from snogging a wolf) is a bit more modern.

He’s not exactly a trendsetter―though he’s fairly certain he’s the only one getting off with a werewolf every once in awhile.

Okay, weekly.  Bi-weekly.  Fucking hell, it’s a bit more like four out of seven days but, honestly, who’s counting?

A healthy sex life shouldn’t be deprived to anyone, including a lad like himself.

But that’s beside the point, Liam thinks…

“Liam,” Louis pleads, “Honestly, there’s so many other blokes or birds you could have at.  Not this―”

“Says the lad who’s screwing a Normal,” Zayn scoffs.

Oh, bloody Christ and all the Saints.

Louis closes in on them in a blur.  He’s fast, not like Liam, but the better of their clan.  He’s agile, too, which makes it even harder for Liam to leap up and stop Louis from reaching Zayn.  Fisting at a lapel on Louis’ trench and throwing all of his strength into holding Louis.

“Tommo!  Stop!”

Louis snarls, fangs extended, squinted eyes a deep black colour.

Louis is a pure blood.  A long dying breed of vampires.  When the infection was simpler, nothing more than a bite.  It’s a bit more complicated now but Liam isn’t much of a history buff.  Especially not when it comes to his own kind.  He finds it quite boring, actually.

But pure bloods have black eyes during feeding.  In combat.  When provoked.

Which is quite weird because, honestly, red eyes present so much more fear than black.

Shit, his mind is drifting again…

“Don’t you ever speak of him again,” Louis snarls, his teeth protruding and extending further.

Liam sighs, shoving at Louis.  He can already hear Zayn half-shifting, his bones cracking, muscles expanding.

Bloody fuck, he’s in no mood for these two idiots.  Always at each other.  If it wasn’t for that bloody truce between vampires and werewolves, Liam swears.  He will not be licking any wounds if they go at each other.

“Back off, Tommo,” Liam exhales, giving Louis another healthy shove.

Louis recoils, squinting at Zayn.  He peers at Liam, shaking his head.

“He’s a waste.”

“You’re quite bitchy, little Dracula,” Zayn sneers.

“Keep your mutt on a lead, Li, or I will neuter him.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, shrinking back into his normal (or, well, as close to human) form.  “Small lads always have the biggest mouths.”

“And the biggest bite, Malik,” Louis hisses, baring his teeth once more.  “Would you like a go at finding out?”

Zayn looks unimpressed.  Liam is just so bloody out of his mind to stand between this.  He should just let them have at it.

It’s a shame Louis is his best mate and Zayn is his… um, lover?  No, that’s awful.  Horrible.  Liam will never refer to any bloke he’s shagging as a lover.

Zayn is his―to be determined.

Liam winces thinking about that.  But he has more important troubles to sort out.

“Head back to Knightsbridge, Tommo.  Report back to the others.  It’s safe, tonight,” Liam says, turning away from Louis.

“But―”

“It’s safe, Tommo,” Liam repeats, his voice tight.  “I’ll be in soon.  Let me sort this out.”

Louis groans, frustration curdled in his throat.  He won’t argue, though.  Old Ways and all that vampire stuff.  Louis is respectful, most of the time.  But only when it involves Liam.

“Sic meus princepes,” Louis mutters and then he’s gone.  In a blur.

Yeah, Louis is quick and quite cross with Liam right now.  They’ll have a massive row about it later.  Liam eagerly awaits it.

“He nicked you.”

Again, Liam is so buggered by his thoughts that he doesn’t hear Zayn get close.  But his fingers graze along Liam’s cheek where the cut from Louis’ nails is already healing.

Liam smiles, appreciative of the way Zayn’s thumb rubs at Liam’s lower lip.  It drags, pulling Liam’s lip down, smooths over Liam’s stubbly chin.

“M fine,” Liam whispers.

Zayn cocks an eyebrow quite efficiently and Liam can’t bundle down the laugh in his belly.

“Should’ve let me take him.  I wouldn’t have hurt him… much.”

Liam rolls his eyes.  “You two―didn’t you used to be mates?”

“Never,” Zayn scoffs.  “Louis doesn’t associate with me kind.”

“The fucking irresistible kind?” Liam teases.

Zayn leans in, their noses brushing.  Their lips skim, Zayn’s warm breath swimming over Liam’s mouth.

“The big, bad wolf kind,” Zayn grins.

“Mm.”

Liam reaches up, his hand cupping the nape of Zayn’s neck.  He drags him that last inch, lips slotting together clumsily.  Zayn growls and Liam shudders with it.  Bloody werewolf and his heightened senses.  Liam can feel Zayn’s kiss all the way down to his toes, which is fairly impossible since Liam never really feels anything.

Only with Zayn.  How predictable.

Liam knows his mouth is cold but Zayn never complains.  He sneaks his tongue in and Liam doesn’t deny him anything.  He kisses back, fingernails almost pinching into Zayn’s skin.

But Zayn can be just as rough.

His teeth, canines and all, rough about Liam’s lips.  He never bites.

They both know what the Bite will do.  From a werewolf to a vampire.  Vice versa.  It’s deadly.

Still, Zayn is teasing and fucking impossible to handle and he kisses like Liam is going to get away.

(Liam is never going away.  Not as long as he can bloody help it.)

And Liam leans into it.  This time, he submits.  He lets Zayn fist his fancy Topman shirt, drag him forward, nearly shred his lower lip with teeth and just takes it.

God, Liam wants to just let Zayn take whatever he wants.

“Just want to―”

“Say it.”

Zayn shivers, lunging back in for another kiss.  He’s so shy when it comes to this.  Zayn is quite comical when he’s turned on.  Never bloody initiates anything.  Never bosses Liam around.  And he won’t bloody say what Liam knows they both want―

For Zayn to do it.

To breed Liam.

It’s impossible, of course.  Liam is not a wolf.  His body is not made up the way an Omega’s is.  For fuck’s sake, Liam is a vampire.  There’s no genetics for breeding or mating or reproduction outside of Turning someone.  He and Zayn could shag all they want but Zayn will never be able to have anything more with Liam.

It’s just a negative side effect, Liam supposes.

The Bite and Turning him did Liam one bloody solid―he’s incapable of ever having a real family.

But fuck it all, Liam just wants Zayn to shove him around.  Knock him about.  Just growl and imprint all over Liam.

(That’s another myth Liam learned was quite true―imprinting.  A werewolf’s way of letting the world know someone belonged to them.  That the wolf’s heart was attached to someone, without question or reversal.  A soul mate.)

(And, shit, Liam thinks he’d love it if Zayn felt the same way.)

“You make me bloody mad, Li.”

Liam smiles around his fangs, nuzzling Zayn’s nose.  “Feel quite the same, lad.”

“Don’t tease me.”

Liam hums, tugging at Zayn’s hair.  He softens a kiss to Zayn’s mouth.  “Guess you’ll find out one day, yeah?”

Zayn grunts his frustration, fingers tearing at Liam’s shirt.  He doesn’t ruin it, out of respect, but the thought doesn’t quite help the massive semi Liam is sporting at the moment.

(Neither does these stupid skintight Topman trousers Louis picked out for him to wear.  How the bloody fuck was Liam’s cock even alive under there?)

“Fuck,” Zayn sighs, rolling his hips just enough for Liam to make out the length of his dick.

Liam grins, mouthing at Zayn’s jaw.  His scent will probably stick to Liam’s clothes.  He can’t quite have the others sniffing at him anytime soon.

(But he loves the muskiness of Zayn.  The way his heat and heady odor always cling to Liam.  He’s a bloody body spray, that one―all warmth and autumn leaves and Alpha.)

“I need to hunt,” Liam mumbles over Zayn’s lips.  “And you need to get back to your pack.  They probably miss you.”

“They can all bloody toss off,” Zayn pouts.

“Even Haz?”

Zayn looks like he’s thinking it over, but he’s really not.  Harry is Zayn’s brother.  They were bitten by the same wolf, changed on the same full moon.  If there’s anyone Zayn would kill for, it’s Harry.

(And sometimes, Liam.  And no, Liam doesn’t have an ego about it at all.)

“M not gonna leave you be, LI,” Zayn says, smirking.

Liam steals another kiss.  “You reckon?”

“You’ve got me sporting a bloody stiffy and all, mate.”

Liam laughs, full and bright.  He feels warm now, too.  All Zayn Malik, the fucking terror.

“I need to feed and you need to go,” Liam insists, this time, giving Zayn a playful shove.

Zayn grunts, scowling and pouting like a scolded pup.  Liam tries not to laugh at him.  He’s mostly successful.

“Later?”

Liam turns, shaking his head, still trying to reason with his mouth to stop smiling.  His fangs poke over his lips and he doesn’t even care.  Because this fucking werewolf has Liam whipped.

“I’ll consider it,” Liam says.

“Don’t think too hard.”

“I’m brilliant at doing loads of things hard, Malik,” Liam calls, catching the sound of Zayn shifting behind him.  “S’ppose you might sort that out later.”

Zayn howls and Liam sprints off into the trees before he changes his bloody mind.  His cock is quite cross with him for not sticking around to see how rough Zayn could be with him in his wolf form.

+++

Liam feels sluggish.

Of course he does―he’d drain three sheep and nearly went for a goat but knew that would be too much.

He’s a vampire―not completely mental.

He feels full and sleepy and lazy.  Feeding does that to him when he’s not careful.  It’s one of the reasons he hates the thirst.

(Actually, it’s not a thirst for Liam.  Not like it is for some of the others.  It’s a need, yes, but out of necessity.  He needs blood to live.  Not just blood but it’s one of the few things that keeps a vampire sane and functional.  He’s heard stories of the ones that have tried to live a life without blood―it’s rather horrific, the end results.

But Liam doesn’t crave blood.  He doesn’t drink for the thrill of it.  There’s no thrill in draining an animal dry and dumping the carcass behind a bundle of trees.)

Liam carries on, though.  He sticks to the shadows, blends in when he walks the streets this late at night.  Keeps his head low, his face blank, his shaking hands stuffed into the pockets of his trench.

All the way back to the posh manor he’s spent nearly a century being bored in.

Quite the life, being a vampire and all.

(That’s the other thing about Liam―he’s just not like the others.

He’s never drank from a human.  Not even when he was a Newborn.  Thankfully, his father gave him options and he chose animals.  Usually, small and well-populated mammals.  Nothing that would cause a drought in a species or whatever.

But never human.

Liam’s never tasted a Normal and it’s his intent to keep it that way.

He’s weird, to most of the clan, at least.  He doesn’t do brooding or moody very well―not like Louis does effortlessly―and sometimes he wants to wear anything other than black or deep red.  Yes, he’s aware of the cliché and quite honestly, he doesn’t get why the other vampires scowl at the colour blue or when Liam tugs on a warm yellow jumper.

Out of habit, he wanders London during the day.  Another myth dusted, he supposes:

Vampires aren’t allergic to the sun.  It’s just they’re too noticeable in the light.  Pale skin, shiny eyes, a gross habit of wearing dark colours or ridiculously gelled quiffs.  The sun hurts Liam’s eyes but he’s not against wearing a pair of Aviators to stroll around Piccadilly Circus.)

Liam sighs, sneaking into the garden.  The leap from the ground to the third-story balcony to his bedroom takes a bit of effort when he’s just fed.

He shouldn’t have had so much.

But Liam is always outrageously thirsty after seeing Zayn.  Always.  It’s sick and Liam hasn’t quite sorted it out but Zayn intensifies everything.  Hormones.  Liam’s heartbeat.  The thirst.

Zayn is a virus―incurable and delightful, all at once.

Bloody fucking werewolves.

“Have you eaten?”

Liam smiles.  He’d sniffed Niall out from the ground but that doesn’t stop him from being a little startled at Niall pacing around the room, tidying the bed and setting tea with a tray of food for Liam.  He’s a good lad like that.

“I have,” Liam replies, short and happily.  “Have you?”

Niall shrugs, a hand dragging through his impossibly fluffy blonde hair.  His suit is wrinkled and put together wrong but Niall is not one for overpriced attire.

He’s probably more comfortable in his favorite footy jersey-top and joggers.  Oh, and those silly Harry Potter glasses he wanders around wearing.  Looking like fresh sleep and cheerfulness.

“Might’ve nicked a few extra biscuits when no one was looking,” Niall replies.

Liam laughs, peeling out of his trench.  He tosses it on an armchair, dragging his feet through his room.

“You did feed enough, right?  Can’t have you poorly―”

Liam rolls his eyes, smiling.  Niall is a good lad.  A bit overprotective and, if Liam is being honest, quite nagging but he’s good.  Kind.  Always looking out for Liam, like it’s his job to.

(Well, if Liam is being truly honest, it is Niall’s job to look out for Liam.)

“Four sheep,” Liam lies.

“Four?” Niall asks, exasperated.

“Okay, alright lad.  Three but I thought about snatching a goat too.”

“How much thought?”

“Half a second,” Liam admits, sheepishly and isn’t that ironic?

Niall laughs noisily, adding milk to his tea and two sugars.  He leans against a bed post, shaking his head but looking anything other than disappointed in Liam.  Amused, mostly.

Because Liam is shit at this vampire thing, okay?  At least, the classic kind.

Liam exhales, waves Niall off when he tries to fix Liam a tea.  He’s not a bloody invalid.  He is quite capable of getting his own cuppa.

Niall snorts, letting Liam have at it.  Liam knows Niall is just being respectful, following his duties and all.  His instructions (probably written in fine script, detailed, on parchment paper by one of Liam’s father’s trustees) are to tend to Liam’s every need.  Keep him proper.  To, in other ways, watch over Liam’s well-being.

But Liam doesn’t need a maid or a servant or whatever sophisticated title they’d given Niall upon birth.

“Did I miss any good games?” Liam asks while making his brew.

Niall lights up at that.  He looks ready to burst.  “If you toss on ITV, you might still catch some of the highlights, mate.  Arsenal putting up some wicked defense.  Don’t know how well Liverpool will do this time out.”

“They’ll do fine,” Liam grins.

Niall rolls his eyes.  “Your club looks fit to make a run.”

Again, Liam grins, inhaling his tea.  Heightened senses makes every layer in the tea noticeable.  And Liam loves how Niall makes a brew.

(Louis would say they were uncivilized for adding anything but milk to their tea.  But Louis is a bit of a culturist.  And a right arsehole.)

“As long as they give Manchester―”

“Bullocks!” Niall crows.  “They’ve not got a chance against ManU.”

Liam scoffs but it’s all in tease.  He loves how he and Niall can take the piss and it’s never more than just a laugh afterwards.

He also loves that Niall makes Liam feel perfectly… well, normal here.

Niall is far from polished.  He’s not properly spoken.  He laughs too loud, wears dodgy clothes when he’s hanging with Liam, stuffs his face and never bothers with pleasantries if they’re not needed.

He’s a mate.

Niall doesn’t fit in around this droll society Liam was bitten into.  He’s different.

Also, he’s a Normal.  From quite a few generations of Normals that pay service to vampires.  Voluntarily servitude to the vampires.  Treat them like they’re… well, gods.  Dedicated, willing to do whatever, which is quite scary to Liam.

(He’s heard the stories―Normals who let vampires feed on them occasionally.  Not enough for the Bite to take but nips and marks.  And the Normals that are kept as toys.

Sex toys.

Liam always cringes at the thought of what must go on behind quite a few closed doors in this place.)

But Liam treats Niall strictly like a mate.  And Niall, to the best of his ability, does the same for Liam.

“Ought to not put all of your pounds on ManU, mate,” Liam suggests with a sly grin.  “Might be quite disappointed when they’re run out of the league.”

“Bullocks,” Niall says again, face pinched.  “Absolute bullocks, mate.  You’ve gone mental.  I never thought I’d see the day but you should’ve drained that damn goat.  Bled it dry because you’ve gone off the end, lad.  Should I have you run up to the A & E?  Will you need a straightjacket or summat?”

Liam’s laughing, full-on snorting at Niall.  He flushes (that’s the blood still in his belly) and shakes his head at Niall.

“You do remember what happened when you went on and on about Norwich City at the start of last year, right?”

Niall pauses.  His face scrunches, like a bad taste in his mouth.  “Fair enough,” he says, glaring into his tea.  “But I was about right!”

“Not even close.”

“Bastard,” Niall mumbles and then they’re both laughing, settled into the quiet of the night.

Liam can’t read minds (another bullshit myth that vampires are equipped with their very own personalized extra abilities) but he swears he knows what Niall is thinking before he even says it.

“So,” Niall drawls, smirking, “Did you have a meet-cute with a particularly ravishing wolf this evening?”

Liam squints his eyes at Niall.  “What has Louis gone on about this time?”

Niall raises a hand in surrender.  “Haven’t had a word with ‘im.  Not one.”

“Liar.”

Niall blushes.  It’s a dodgy red-pink color and reminds Liam all the time how much of a Normal Niall really is.

(He’s not jealous.  Not one bit.)

“C’mon, lad, I’ve sorted out well before Louis opened his big gob about your werewolf.  Always sneaking off, thinking you’re being clever and how’s it,” Niall teases.

This time, Liam blushes too.  Every little bit of blood he’s got left from the sheep floods his cheeks and face.

He can’t even look Niall in the eyes.

“He’s doing well then?”

“As expected,” Liam shrugs, turning to his tea.  “Can’t really tell with that one.”

“He’s mad over you,” Niall puts in.  “I can tell.”

Liam shrinks even more.  He settles in on his bed, staring down into his tea.  Trying not to let Zayn ruin his thoughts.

(Niall has seen them a time or two.  Liam knows.  Zayn’s snuck into Liam’s bedroom and curled up at Liam’s feet, sleeping while Liam doses.

They’ve been mostly careful about the snogging bit or Zayn easing between Liam’s legs, stubble scratching at Liam’s thighs as he took Liam between his lips.

But Liam knows Niall has seen.

And not say a word, the good lad that he is.)

“I don’t think a vampire and a werewolf―”

“Oh, give it a rest, lad.  Don’t be fussed over the particulars,” Niall suggests.  “If I’m honest, they’re all just bullocks these days.  No one follows the rules, completely.”

Liam laughs softly at that.

It’s quite true.

The old laws aren’t what they used to be.  Not with Normals as sex slaves and vampires marrying Normals, living perfectly unbalanced lies for the public.

Then there’s the truce between wolves and vampires.  A necessary end to a war that’s no one is quite sure about why it started.  Silly stuff, Liam reckons, like any other war.  But it’d gone on long enough that no one seems fussed to argue why it was all quite a bit foolish from the start.

There’s a taller enemy for both sides now―Hunters.

A society of Normals well aware of werewolves, vampires, and whatever else creeps at night.

Killing without question.  Leaving behind too many of Liam’s mates for him to think about.

“You fancy him quite a bit, don’t you?”

Liam smiles over his tea.  Niall’s teasing is borderline annoying some days.  Like today.

“Quit it.”

“Weird, innit?  I mean, I imagine it has to be strange trying to give a blowie or get one from him.  With the teeth and all,” Niall says, waving his hand about as to explain all the rubbish he can’t get out.

Liam balks.  Niall just laughs, smacking a hand over his knee.

“Dunno,” Liam says, eyes squinted in determination.  “You tell me.  How does Louis go about sucking you off?”

Amazing.  Niall turns even brighter red than Liam imagines even the sun can get.  He’s gobsmacked and looking around the room, trying to find anything other than Liam to stare at.

“I’ve not―”

“No need to lie,” Liam sneers.  “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“You and Tommo,” Liam says, waving his hand around just like Niall had.  “I mean, he’s quite an arse, mate.  If I’m being honest, I don’t know how anyone can tolerate how he treats them.”

Niall purses his lips, in thought.  He studies the floor, socked-feet drumming on the carpet.  He rubs at his forehead, sighing.

“He’s different,” Niall whispers, fighting off a smile.  “He’s a proper dick, I agree.  And a little shit about nearly everything.  But when he’s away from it all, he’s different.  Funny.  Softer, in a mentally draining way.  Like.  He doesn’t treat me like shit or his servant.  Like an equal, I reckon, if Louis ever had such a thing.”

Liam can’t help the grand smile that muddles its way across his mouth.

Louis―a proper gentle creature.

Such things have never existed.

But Liam can take Niall’s word for it.  He’s not one to find out for himself, certainly not any time soon.

“So you’re happy?”

“Quite,” Niall replies quickly.

“And he doesn’t, like―he doesn’t feed off you or anything, right?”

Liam is being careful with his tone.  His words.  It’s a sensitive subject and probably none of his bloody business, if he’s being honest, but he cares for Niall.  Deeply.  He is Liam’s only mate and Liam would most certainly gut anyone who ever tried to―

“Not at all,” Niall says without the burst of anger Liam is expecting after a question like that.  “And I’ve not asked him to Turn me, either.  This is not some bullocks teen fantasy film, mate.”

Liam snorts and finishes his tea.  Niall is most certainly a good one.

“That must suck,” Liam mentions as Niall gathers up the tea dishes and kettle.  “I mean, you’re a Normal,” Liam tries not to make it sound offensive, “and he’s a vampire.  He won’t die, Ni.  But you will.”

It’s harsh, even for Liam.  He can barely swallow after it leaves his lips but it’s true.

There’s no limit on how long Louis will live.  But there is one on Niall.

“How do you bother?”

Niall shrugs, still smiling.  Like water off a duck.  Niall carries on gathering up things.  “Dunno.  Haven’t given it much thought,” he says, humming.  “Go day to day.  It’s all a bit of good fun and heartbreak, innit?”

Liam slumps forward, disappointed.

That’s all life really is, innit?

“But I reckon you can teach me how to manage, yeah?” Niall asks, halfway to the door.

Liam lifts his head, forfeiting a smile just for Niall.  It doesn’t hurt too much when it’s for Niall.

“Lingvo meus princeps,” Niall says from the doorway.

“Oi!  Please, Ni.  Must you talk like that?”  Liam scrunches his face, nose wrinkled and mouth turned downward.  “It’s a dead language.”

Niall shrugs, grinning.  “It’s the language of the Vampire.”

Perfectly on time, Liam rolls his eyes.

“No need to be so formal around me, Ni, okay?”

A resigned sigh squeezes through Niall’s lips.  He shrugs, clumsily balancing everything in one arm.  Even in the dark of this place, Niall’s eyes light up blue.  Like an ocean; not the undead.

“As you wish, my prince,” he says, not the least bit shameful about his teasing.  “I left extras for wolf boy.  Shepherd’s pie and orangey scones and milk.  Make sure he doesn’t shed all over the linen this time, will ya?”

And Liam absolutely does not feel his cheeks heat up the second Niall is out of sight.

Bloody Normals and their sense of humors.

+++

Prince.

It’s what Liam is, not by birthright, of course.  But still.

Liam is a prince.

His father is some king from days before proper politics and government.  A pure blood.  And he fell madly in love with Liam’s mum while on holiday from whatever Vampire kings do.  Liam’s not sure.  He’s quite fine not knowing, as well.

He fell for Liam’s mum and did just as much as he could to hide away that he was a vampire from her.  Until he couldn’t.

And then there was Liam.

Not even a proper five-years-old then.  Pudgy, happy, cherry-cheeked Liam who wobbled behind his mum and took to this stranger like he’d always properly been in their lives.

(Liam still isn’t sure who his real father was.  Another thing he doesn’t care to sort out.)

The thing is―vampires falling for Normals always ends in disaster.  Death, actually.  From natural causes.  Normals will never live as long as vampires.  They die.  And leave behind a heap of loneliness for the daft vampire that decided being in love with a Normal was a brilliant idea in the first place.

So what else would a Vampire king do other than Turn the woman he was in love with?

Oh, and her happy, pudgy, daft son too.

Liam’s mum didn’t survive the Bite.  Not all Normals do.  It’s common knowledge and why it’s mostly forbidden in vampire society.

Killing for blood is one thing.  But biting for love is… well, it’s romantic (Liam supposes; he wouldn’t know) but bloody foolish.

But Liam took to the Bite like a bird to the wind.  He lived… died?  Became undead?  He’s not sure of the particulars but he’s a vampire.

And his mum is buried in the garden, proper headstone and flowers every winter.

The king took to Liam immediately.  Like a son, his genes running through Liam.  Maybe because Liam reminded the king of his mum.  Or because Liam, even as a vampire, was still just a happy child waddling about and colouring on the walls.

He doesn’t know.

(That’s another thing―not that Liam is keeping count―about vampires: They’re not immortal.  They do age.  The Bite doesn’t stop growth.  But it slows the process to an intense crawl.  Nearly a standstill, but not quite.)

(Liam swears he suffered through puberty for close to five decades.  It was dreadful.  Being that horny and dry-humping his sheets for that long became quite… tedious on washing days.)

So here Liam is―Uncertain vampire.  Unwilling to drink from a Normal.  Bored out of his mind.  Helplessly in love with a bloody werewolf, for fuck’s sake.

Oh, and a prince.

What a mercifully pleasant and charmed life he’s been living (not-living?) for quite some time now.

+++

Liam is quite settled under his sheets.  Naked.  Their softness should be rewarding, comforting if not sensual.  But for Liam, the linen is just a formality.  Like anything else, he supposes.

His skin still smells of sandalwood and musk.  From the shower.  His hair still drips on his pillow.  He’s not cold, never is.  But he’s certain his skin is.  Even the heat from the shower only leaves him warm to the touch for a few minutes.

Then it’s cold.

Liam doesn’t mind it.

His room is mostly dark.  The walls are coated a deep blue, too deep and full for his liking.  And all of the furniture is black.  All of it.  It’s meant to give the room a modernist look but Liam really hates it.  It’s strange and imposing.  Scary to the naked eye.

But Liam reckons that’s the whole “vampire appeal” thing he did not receive with his honorary Vampire Handbook.

(There is no handbook.  He’s checked.  Loads of archives and libraries with stories and historical accounts, though.  Vampires loved to read, for whatever reason.)

But the French doors leading to the balcony are open, letting in the barest amount of London light.  Nice bits of the moon sweeping over the carpet in weird shapes.

Liam’s left it open for a reason.  Not just the light.  But he will not admit why to anyone if they asked.

Dithering around with his thoughts doesn’t last long.

Liam smiles in the soft of his pillow when the doors shift wider and heavy feet thump over the carpet.  Four feet.  Heightened senses and vampire superpowers (which is complete rubbish because if Liam could have any power, it would be to fly or bloody turn invisible) alerts Liam to the shift in temperature in the room.

The scent.

Oh bloody fuck, the lovely scent of dried leaves and salty-sharp bits of the Thames and musk.  Heady musk.

Soft growling, heavy breaths.  Sniffing and then a happy whimper.

Shadows moving along the walls.  A wagging tail and then endless black fur from a beast (no, a lovely creature that Liam could admire for years to come) crawling up onto Liam’s bed.

Settling himself at Liam’s feet, like always.  Ready to curl in on himself.

“There’s loads of room up here by the pillow,” Liam offers, smiling without looking.  “Wouldn’t be opposed to a bit of company, if I’m honest.”

Another happy growl, this one from deep in the wolf’s throat.  A gurgle of joy that absolutely does not warm every stitch of Liam’s skin because that’s not possible.

(Oh, but Liam is willing to wager anything is possible with Zayn.)

Liam keeps his eyes on the sheets as Zayn shifts.  It sounds rather painful.  All the bones re-breaking and muscles compacting.  Liam’s not quite sure where all the fur goes.  He likes the fur―it’s soft and bristly at once.  And he hasn’t figured out the whole tail thing.

Does it go inside Zayn’s bum or is it an extension of his spine?

Stupid questions, he knows.  But it’s the kind of thoughts that keep him up sometimes.

Wolves are naked when they shift back.  It’s crossed Liam’s mind quite a few times that it might be strange to wonder if wolves happen to have a spare set of clothing stashed away somewhere so they’re not roaming around in their starkers after a good frolic in the wilderness.

Which, okay, Liam knows is a bloody stupid thought.

Of course they have a fresh pair of knickers and trousers to hop into, honestly.

So Liam is not quite surprised (but insanely content) when Zayn settles across Liam’s spine with nothing but a thin sheet between them.

“Liiiiam,” Zayn says in this voice that’s stupidly fond.

Containing his smirk is a true test of Liam’s strength.  And, by all means, he is weak.  Bloody pathetic.

“Have you missed me?”

“What?  No.  Don’t be daft.”

“I could go?”

“What?  No.  Don’t be daft,” Liam repeats, laughing.  He turns his face enough to feel Zayn’s breath against his cheek, the smoothness of his lips when they shift across Liam’s dimple.  Zayn’s nose is cold and snuffling Liam’s ear before he can protest.

“I haven’t thought of you one bit.”

“Me neither,” Zayn replies, grinning.  “But me cock has been on bloody overload thinking about your mouth.”

“Mm?”

Zayn hums, curling an arm around Liam’s hip, resting his hand over Liam’s belly.  Even through the sheet, Liam can tell how rough it is.  His palms, always strong and calloused.  Long, nimble fingers.

Fuck, Liam loves how those hands feel pulling him off or touching his cheek afterwards.

“Is that what you want, Li?” Zayn asks.

There’s a scratchy huskiness behind his voice.  And Liam has been listening to the erratic thrum of Zayn’s heartbeat since he crept into the room.  His scent is strong too―the way he gets when he’s aroused.  Deep, tangy musk.

Wet drops turn into a damp spot on the sheets along Liam’s bum.  A sticky mess from Zayn’s precome, already bubbling over.

Liam counts that as an advantage for wolves―the sex.  Zayn’s cock is always hard, willing.  It thickens in the loveliest places.  Leaks unapologetically and constantly.  And at the base―

Liam sucks in a sharp breath.

Zayn groans in his ear, hands working at the sheet, tugging it down.  “Can I?” he asks, out of formality.

They both know Liam is quite far from denying Zayn any part of this.

“Wouldn’t mind you having a go,” Liam whispers, face smooshed to the pillow.  “But I was sort of thinking―”

“I love when you start sentences like that,” Zayn laughs.  He yanks the sheet away, pressing a hand to Liam’s shoulder to keep him on his stomach.

“―maybe you could suck me off, later.  Or I could do that for you,” Liam continues, struggling with his breathing.  “Not now, though.”

“What now?”

A rough breath escapes Liam and, if he had any blood from those sheep left, he’d be red all over at admitting this.

“In me.  Bloody hell, Zayn, I’ve been wanting you inside of me for hours now.”

Zayn cards fingers through Liam’s still damp hair.  His teeth―canines extended and sharp―skim the nape of Liam’s neck.  Not teasing, just cautiously marking.  Letting Liam know he wants every bit of him.

All of it does wonderful things for Liam’s dick.  Rock hard and throbbing between his thighs.  It’s an awkward position but Liam lifts his hips just enough so that his prick is tipped down and rubbing off on the sheets, thighs spread, giving Zayn a proper view if he wants one.

“And,” Liam gasps, not nearly ready for this part.  But fuck it all, he’s on edge and being brave doesn’t seem too difficult when there’s an excited werewolf rubbing his cock along Liam’s bum.  “I reckon you might like to―”

Liam seizes up and Zayn waits.  He’s impatient, yes, but never pressuring.  Kind, like a lover…

Oh, bloody fuck.

“Knot me, Zed.”

A wet shiver tickles up Liam’s spine at the rough sound of Zayn’s breath.  He likes the hitch of it, just before the growl and Zayn is on him, bare teeth in Liam’s peripheral and glowing eyes glaring down at Liam.

“You know we can’t―”

“You can,” Liam challenges.  “It’ll be all right.”

“But Li―”

“Zed,” Liam breathes, half turning his face to get a proper look at Zayn.

Orangey-amber eyes are wide, pleading.  Uncertain.  A bit scared if Liam’s being honest.  And those teeth, poking at Zayn’s lips, can’t hide the way his pink tongue darts out to lick away the dryness.  How his nostrils keep flaring like he’s deciding.

He needs a push.

“Knot me, babe.  I want it all.  I’m not gonna break―”

Zayn snuffs a laugh, nosing at Liam’s cheek, wrinkled brow pressed to Liam’s temple.

“―and I can take it.  Take you.  So breed me, babe.”

Sharper breaths make Zayn’s chest heave and his hands more possessive over Liam’s hips, his chest, his stomach.  He won’t make eye contact now and Liam’s okay with it.

He just needs Zayn to trust it.

“C’mon, love, we’ve put it off long enough.”

“We’ve put it off because it’s not s’ppose to work like that.  Can’t just go knotting anyone.”

Liam smiles, amused.  “Because it’s a sacred thing, right?  All wolf’s law and some shit.  Alphas and their bloody knots.  Only for your mate?”

This time, Zayn pulls back just enough to let Liam see that he’s rolling his eyes.  Liam laughs at that.

“Because of physiology.  Omega and beta wolves are built to handle me knot; not vampires.  Or Normals.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Liam huffs, straining his neck to smack a kiss to Zayn’s mouth.  Zayn doesn’t jerk away, so it’s progress.  “Normals, no, they can’t handle it.  But a vampire?  Have you not heard of all that self-healing or whatever?”

He leans up again, lips nearly slotting over Zayn’s.

“I can take it.”

Zayn’s eyes flutter shut, lashes licking at his cheeks.  Liam studies him, for a second, bracing himself when Zayn eases down to finally kiss Liam.  Soft and casual, like it’s something they do often.  Daily.

(They do but not with as much intimacy behind it.  They’re both cowards, Liam knows, but he’ll never admit it to Zayn.)

Zayn pulls back.  Liam lets him go.

“Let’s start with me fucking you, babe.  We can see where it goes from there, yeah?”

It’s a cheap offer.  Not that Liam is going to turn it down.  He loves any chance to see Zayn take control.

Liam concedes with a kiss, a slow, wet one that makes his toes curl and everything inside of him catch fire.  It’s always so new, with Zayn.  These feelings that Liam can’t quite seem to have with anything else he experiences.  Brand new sensations wrapping around him like a winter coat, snug and warm.  Keeping him floating and uncertain.

Breaking all the laws Liam’s been told are impossible for vampires.

“Lube?” Zayn asks, husky and carnal.

“Don’t reckon we need it, you agree?  Already a bit wet down there,” Liam giggles, trying but failing to reach back and find Zayn’s cock.

It’s already nestled quite pleasantly between Liam’s cheeks and he’s not about to risk knocking it away.

“You’re slick enough, right?”

Zayn sighs heavily against Liam’s shoulder, nodding once and sharp.

“Inside, Zed.  I’ve begged enough, haven’t I?”

“Hardly,” Zayn breathes, snuffling the nape of Liam’s neck.  “But I s’ppose that’s enough of a chat, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam exhales, trying to monitor the awe in his voice.

Zayn peeks into Liam’s vision again, everything around his face swimming and blurred.  But Zayn―fuck, his hair is mussed and his eyes are lit a bright yellow and Liam’s gone.  Gone on his smile, when his tongue licks out to wet his lips, the tight scrunch around his eyes.

“Gonna fuck you now, Li,” he whispers, snuffling his nose to Liam’s briefly, “and I need to hear you.  Need to know it’s good for you, ‘kay?”

Liam arches his back, slow and sexy, and nods.  It’s all he can do.  Bloody words have escaped him a long time ago.

Zayn breathes against his ear, plastered to Liam’s back like a bloody slug for a bit before he’s shifting and cocking Liam’s legs further apart.  Giving a compulsory tug to Liam’s dick, just to tease and placate Liam.  Smoothing rapid kisses across the back of Liam’s shoulders just so Liam knows what warmth feels like.

And Zayn is so bloody hot, his skin scorching and letting off more of his scent.

Liam inhales freely, over and over.  He wants to bottle that obnoxious scent pouring off of Zayn and scrub it over all of his washing.  Bleach it to his skin so he always feels Zayn on him.

Christ, he’s in over his head.

Zayn’s sweaty against him.  Flushed but still this smooth, gold tone Liam enjoys admiring.  Except Liam’s face is halfway buried into the pillow.

His hips are tilted up, his hole clenching for something.

Zayn’s dick keeps twitching along his backside.  So slick.  Liam wonders if Zayn is playing with the foreskin, pulling it back and forward, watching the precome gurgle out.  Fingers reaching back and down, cupping his balls.  His thumb adding just a hint of pressure against his knot, like he does just before Liam swallows him.

Liam’s hand fists the sheet before Zayn even sinks in.  It’s the anticipation, he swears.  Not a hint of fear.

He’s gotten past that emotion the first time they’ve done this―Liam on bottom, letting Zayn work his way inside until Liam was relaxed and pliant.

And the second time was even easier, Liam on his knees, shuddering and bouncing on Zayn’s dick like a new Christmas toy.

It’s the adrenaline that makes Liam anxious.  All the rolled tension cracking around his bones like it’s supposed to be there or summat.

“Relax, relax,” Zayn insists.

Of course.  Quite easy when you’re the mate shoving something up the other’s arse.

Liam doesn’t say any of that because he quite like this―how Zayn’s careful and calming and deliberate with making Liam wait until he knows Liam won’t shut down on him.

Because vampires are notorious for dominance, even in the bedroom, and Liam is giving up loads by just lying here with Zayn perched over him.

“Gonna give me your cock anytime soon, babe?” Liam asks, trying to sound civil.

He fails, mostly.

Zayn’s smile presses against Liam’s earlobe.  “Is that sex talk?  Are you trying your naughty voice on me?  I dunno if I fancy it.”

“Not yet,” Liam jokes, sighing.

“Not yet,” Zayn repeats, laughing.  “Could use some creativity, you reckon?”

“Possibly.”

“A bit more of the old ‘yes, sir, pound me until I cream all over the―’”

“Are you bloody mad?  That sounds ridiculous.  Horrible.”

“I might like it.”

“You might be mental.”

Zayn hums and it’s this casual banter that finally makes Liam unwind.  He’s not given it much thought, how the tone of Zayn’s voice mellows him.  Seeps some of that unwanted tension from his muscles.  Makes it that much easier when the head of Zayn’s prick finally eases past the rim, catching, making them both tremble.

Liam makes a small noise―no, it’s not a whimper―and squeezes his eyes shut on the feel of Zayn hesitating before easing his dick further in.

The moon plays across the room, changing positions, sweeping just enough light over the bed.  Liam can see his knuckles ready to protrude through his skin, fingers gripping the sheets a bit too fiercely.  Shadows from Zayn’s face chase over the pillows.  Seconds later, Zayn’s hand folds over Liam’s and his fingers slot just between Liam’s on the sheets.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”  Liam’s shaking but in an incredible way.  “Not much pain on this end.  The whole vampire thing, I s’ppose.”

“Whatever,” Zayn laughs, deep and sexy, right near Liam’s ear.  “I can make it rough.”

“Promise?”

“Tease.”

“Says the lad barely moving his cock in me bum.”

“Oh, shut it,” Zayn growls, feral and wet.  He shifts, barely, and skims more of his thick length inside of Liam.  “Just getting warmed up.”

Liam snorts at that, but his body is on a different plane of thought.  It squeezes warm and tight around Zayn.  He gasps, turning his face, letting it out against Zayn’s bicep.  Sticky sweat pours off Zayn and Liam thinks (momentarily because he’s not really capable of much) that having that shower was a bit unnecessary now, wasn’t it?

Zayn’s scent is going to be all over him for hours.

(No, he doesn’t love it, but fucking hell, he’s in love with it)

Liam exhales happily, eyes fluttering close again.  Zayn is snug inside him now, throbbing and twitching like he can’t keep still.  Liam makes a content noise at that.

“So good,” Zayn says, tickling the hair behind Liam’s ear.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, could stay inside this for ages,” Zayn says, lifting his hips gently just to sink back in.  Liam squirms at the scratch in Zayn’s voice.  Zayn’s spare hand lays across the small of Liam’s back, pins Liam’s hips down, his teeth baring again along Liam’s shoulder.  “Can I?”

“Quite a bit of romantic talk, innit?”

Zayn makes a show of climbing into Liam’s vision just to roll his eyes.  He pecks a kiss to Liam’s temple for good measure, sliding back, twisting his hips just enough inside of Liam that―

“Oh, fuck.  Christ.  If you do that again, mate, I might―”

“Already?” Zayn chuckles.

Liam scowls but does not make any effort to get away.  He keeps still beneath Zayn and holds his breath until Zayn starts to move again, this time with a bit more exertion behind his thrust.

Zayn is so slick, practically wetting the sheets every time he pulls back too far and his dick pops out.  It makes it easier for Liam to adjust, though he’s still a bit put out because, fuck mercy, Zayn is thick.

Around the base, especially.

(Another check in the Pros of Being a Wolf column, Liam thinks)

It stretches Liam in a way he’s not in any academic stance to describe.  But he shivers with it, sobbing into the pillow each time Zayn corkscrews his hips to get deeper.

“Good?”

“Quit asking.”

Zayn laughs into Liam’s hair, pressing more weight against Liam.  He’s still a bit of a lightweight when he’s not shifted but there’s muscles flexing and a power behind the way he fucks.  And it feels so good, those narrow hips smacking against the soft of Liam’s bum.

“Nngh,” Liam grunts, his face scrunched.

“Can I give you more?”

“More?” Liam practically squeaks, testing the lift of his hips to meet each of Zayn’s thrusts.

Zayn tips his head back, cackling.  “Not me cock, Li, you’ve got all of that,” he replies, rocking down on Liam for a few seconds, “I meant pressure.  Can I go faster?”

“Faster,” Liam repeats, breathless.  “And just a bit… yes, deeper, babe.  Fuck, right there.”

And like a fucking miracle, Zayn does just that.  Puts all of his attention on crooking down and then up into Liam’s softness.  Searching, unrestrained as he flexes his hips just to fill Liam completely out.

(Liam’s read―by accident, he swears―the Bite removes all of those tiny little buggery nerves inside of the body once the virus really seeps in.  Makes all of the aging less painful.  Easy clean-up from wounds.  Self-healing isn’t much of a bother.

And it lessens things, too.  Sex isn’t quite as pleasurable, Liam’s read, like it is for a Normal.

The prostate?  Dead on arrival.  Or, that’s what Liam has read.)

(He can be a firsthand witness that the books are a lie and the nudge of Zayn’s dickhead inside of him definitely triggers something Liam can’t cage.)

“Zed,” Liam moans.

Zayn leans down, his chest pressed along Liam’s spine.  “How close are you?”

“Did you want a countdown or summat?”

A breathy laugh washes over Liam’s cheek.  “Could do for that,” Zayn replies.  “It’s just, um, me knot is getting there and I don’t want t’ hurt you so I was thinking―”

“Stop bloody thinking, Zed!  ‘M not… I don’t even know the words but, fuck, I want you to fit it inside me.”

The thing is―the Bite is also quite helpful when shagging too.  Next to no pain.

Those nerves barely flinch when Zayn’s nails dig into his skin.  There’s hardly any pain when his teeth scrape along Liam’s shoulder, Zayn snarling behind him.  Or Zayn’s fingers tugging roughly at the hair along the nape of Liam’s neck.

Liam’s hysterical with it.  Zayn is trying to keep himself at bay, to stop the shifting.  He’s pounding into Liam and the wet squelch of it dials up Liam’s arousal.  He’s sticking to the sheets, all the precome seeping out of his prick.

“Can I?”

Liam exhales harshly, closing his eyes for it.  “Knot, Zed.  Breed me.  Make me yours.”

(And, yeah, that last part comes out a bit cliché in his head but it’s better than the babbling he’s seconds from doing with Zayn jerking into him so he’ll settle for a cliché.)

Liam comes before Zayn can do anything.  Just the thought of Zayn knotting does it, really.  His knees kick apart, Zayn slips and sinks all the way in and Liam just trembles on the sheets.  He chokes off a noise but remembers Zayn’s instructions from earlier and mutters a long list of profanity that he’s quite proud of.

“Fucking hell, you’re amazing,” he tacks on, believing every single word of it.

And thank fuck he’s still coming when there’s a bit more pressure around the rim of Liam’s hole.

He’s out of his mind, shaking, and it doesn’t give his body any opportunity to clench up when Zayn’s knot starts to open him up.

“Bloody hell,” Liam groans.

Zayn twitches, snuffling Liam’s neck, hissing to keep himself from shifting.  Liam lazily tips his head up, offers his cheek for Zayn to suck at and wheezes when Zayn’s knot pops.

“Gonna,” Zayn huffs, nipping at Liam’s jaw, “Like it’s big, okay?  And I’m gonna come quite a bit.”

Liam rolls his eyes, smiling.  He doesn’t know how but he’s already popped another chubby while Zayn’s been fucking him and he’s quite alright with whatever Zayn’s doing now.

Because Liam is so full.  It’s overwhelming.  Zayn’s dick has fattened up even more, stretching Liam like a rubberband ready to snap, and the thickness of the head is pressing down on something Liam can’t recognize.  He swears it’s in his belly.  It’s funny and weird and has Liam on edge.

“So big,” Liam whimpers.

“Flattery is unnecessary,” Zayn says through half breaths.

Liam winces, wanting a sharper comeback but he can’t.  He can’t even function.

Zayn pulls back just a little and wow there’s his knot pulling at the rim before Zayn shoves down again.

He’s coming.  Whimpering, nearly howling like a wolf in pain, Zayn’s there.  And Liam comes, too.  Again.

He’s fuck out of his head and coming for a second time because of Zayn’s knot.

“Don’t move.  Shit.  Don’t move,” Zayn begs, curling around Liam.  He’s everywhere―face smooshed between Liam’s shoulder blades, arms twisted around Liam’s arms, palms pressed to Liam’s chest, thighs squeezing at Liam’s hips.

Liam gasps, nodding, his body melting into the linen.

And Zayn is still coming.  Dripping out of Liam, between his thighs, sticky and warm across Liam’s balls.  There’s a large spot already starting to go cold under Liam’s legs.

He’s high off Zayn’s scent while Zayn shakes above him.

“Nearly there,” Zayn whispers and Liam tries not to laugh.

He mostly succeeds.  Because Zayn is bashful, abashed about this moment.  About how he’s filling Liam with his come and fucking hell Liam is not wishing this meant a bit more.

Liam is absolutely not wishing Zayn was actually breeding him.

(Stupid, stupid, stupid vampire.)

When Zayn finishes, the world tips.  Actually, no, Liam tips.  To his side.  Zayn’s rearranging them and his dick keeps nudging all of Liam’s sweet spots.  By accident, of course, because he’s still so fucking big inside of Liam and his knot keeps them from separating.  It’s full, throbbing, a massive link keeping them together.

Liam could die (again) like this.

“Sorry about the whole―”

“Making me come twice?”

“No.”

“Getting me linen all wet with how much you came?”

Liam can feel Zayn blushing.  It spreads down to his arms this time.  “No.”

“The sex?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then what?”

Zayn sighs, exasperated.  He waves an arm about in some painfully nonsensical motion before groaning.  “About being stuck like this.  Me being unable to, y’know, pull out.”

Liam laughs in the fondest way, he nearly hates himself for it.  “Babe, if this is what you call a ‘problem’ then we have nothing to bother over.”

Zayn hums, flushing again.  “Really?”

Liam nods, too fucked out to really say much else.  He tips his head back onto Zayn’s shoulder and lets warmth surround him for the first time.  Warmth from a sleeping body (yes, Zayn like all wolves, falls asleep without much effort) behind him and whatever sensation is overtaking his mind.

Fucking vampires and their lies about nothing feel anything.  Utter rubbish, every single word.

+++

The room is lit on fire.  Not literally, of course.  All of the morning’s sunlight has snuck in through the open doors, coating the room, managing to stick to the walls even though they’re painted so dark.  It’s new, for Liam, waking to the sun.

To a snoring Zayn snuffling his shoulder.

Liam stretches and then almost regrets it.  There’s no pain―fucking vampire genes―but his movements finally make Zayn’s prick slip free and Liam is just…

Empty.

He should be used to that.  His whole life, after the Bite, has pretty much been empty.  No feeling.  Observing the world as it goes from new to old over years.  No attachments.  Learning everything as he wanders London.

But since Zayn came around, there’s bits of him filling up―

His head with all of these constant thoughts about this wolf.

His time with sneaking out, finding Zayn in the weirdest places, pretending he’s not ignoring his watch to hang about a bit longer with Zayn.

His nose with the scent of Zayn.

His hands with Zayn’s jaw, his hips, his cock, his hair.

His heart with―whatever this bloody tingling is that should come with a prescription or a packet of paracetamol because bloody hell.

And now his morning, with the sun and Zayn and what happened last night.

(Oh, Liam could relive that a few times over.  He’d be up for it every night.)

Zayn snuffs, shaking away.  He groans.  Liam’s cock does not wake up at that noise.

“Your toes are cold.”

“Everything is cold on me, mate.”

“Shut up.”

Zayn, in his own stubborn way, crowds closer around Liam, yanking the sheets up.  Liam smiles at the ceiling and lets Zayn carry on.

“I think,” Liam pauses, making sure Zayn is listening.  “I think I’d rather like it if you met my father.  And possibly having tea with Niall?  I could also go for having drinks with Haz once in a while.”

Zayn sniffs, not moving.  Liam has the worst timing when it comes to having brave moments.  Absolute worst.

“I’m shit, sorry.  Shouldn’t have even suggested―”

“Hazza doesn’t drink, much.  But he likes museums.  And when the moon is full, he rather likes having someone other than me to run about with.  Just someone to look over us.”

Zayn’s voice is small, shy but he’s talking more than usual.  He goes on, suggesting Liam meet his pack.  Maybe find a way to have a go with chatting up Louis―which Zayn quickly rejects, balking at himself, and changing the subject.

Liam feels Zayn reach out, twining their fingers together.  It’s nice.  Everything is nice.

“So you’re like,” Liam stops, taking a breath.

Zayn snorts, full-on giggly behind Liam.

“We’d be breaking so many rules, y’know,” Zayn says instead while Liam flounders.

Liam, without much thought, thinks he’s blushing.  As much as a vampire can―which they can’t unless they’ve fed.

“I’d rather like it if I’m being honest.  Being your lover?”

Zayn scoffs, biting Liam’s shoulder without using his canines.  “Gross, babe, don’t use that word,” he insists, smiling.  “Mate.  After last night, I’d much prefer mate.”

“Mate,” Liam says slowly, trying it out in his mouth.

Perfect.

“Besides,” Zayn hums, scrubbing his stubbly cheek to Liam’s neck, “I sort of imprinted you and, um, it’s best I call you me ‘mate’ when I introduce you to others.  Would that the pack t’ think I just do that for any bloodsucker.”

Liam groans, happily, and turns in Zayn’s arms, attacking his mouth without his fangs.  It’s tricky but he manages.

Stupid fucking werewolves and their ability to give Liam feelings.