Work Text:
You and Zayn went way back, further back than either of you were willing to admit, back to times when you would go swimming naked in the summer and didn’t care what anyone thought. After going to college and Zayn became an art major, you suddenly found yourself at the center of every other project he involved himself in. It was a lot of fun, at first. Until he had to take a photography class. The first project, taking childhood photos and redoing them currently as accurate as possible, was fun and turned out hilarious—seeing his dad, Yaser, trying to lift his older sister in the air to recreate a picnic picture had you cracking up for days. But then one day, Zayn came home subdued and sat heavily at the kitchen table, dropping his head into his hands and passing you a sheet of paper with the next assignment.
It was a mixed assignment, which is why he was involving you. You received the exact same assignment sheet when you arrived in your Ancient Mythologies class the next day. You had to write a mythology using two completely unrelated gods or goddesses (of either the Greek, Egyptian, Hindu, or Norse persuasion) and then Zayn was to photograph the myth, using time accurate dress and settings. The theatre department was aware of the project and would be more than willing to aid in costume production and set up.
“This isn’t too bad,” You said, seeming unsure of Zayn’s reaction. He peaked up at you.
“You think you can do it?” He asked, brightening. You nodded and set to work immediately. The costumes and photoshoot would be difficult enough that he didn’t need to be waiting on you to start. You chose Greek mythology because it was the one you knew the most about and spun a tale of Até, the goddess of mischief and seduction, and Eros, the god of love and sexual desire. It was steamy and sexy, full of chase and desire, and more than you could have hoped for when you started.
“Dear… Are you… This is… Alright. Alright.” Zayn seemed a bit unsure over the story, his eyes widening more than you thought possible. “This is going to be an interesting shoot,” he finally muttered.
“What, too dirty? I can write something else if you’d like…” You really didn’t want to, though. You liked this story. Sure, it was smut. Yes, there were some raunchy parts that his models would have to be super comfortable with each other to shoot but hey, weren’t photography models supposed to be good at that sort of thing?
“No, it’s fine.” Zayn sighed and set the story down before he began laughing. “This is going to be awkward…”
“What is?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Well, I’ve already picked my models and listed them on the assignment form. I can’t change them unless there’s an emergency,” Zayn explained, looking up at you with a little bit of a twinkle in his eyes. You got a nasty feeling in your stomach.
“So?” You asked hesitantly.
“I put you down.”
You didn’t even say anything, just stared at Zayn, your mouth open and your eyes wild. How dare you would have been appropriate. Or maybe several what the fucks. Possibly a little bit of yelling wasn’t out of order. But you couldn’t manage anything other than open mouth shock. The amusement left his face slowly as you remained in shocked silence until he began to look a little worried.
“Y/N? Are you alright?” He asked, standing up and placing his hands on your upper arms.
“Why?” You whispered, your eyes bugging out.
“I thought… well, I figured that since you wrote it, you should be in it,” He explained, scratching his stubble and looking at you apprehensively.
“Fine.” You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Fine.”
“You sure?” He asked, checking your expression. You nodded, letting out another deep breath. “Okay, well, you need to go talk to the theatre guys about the costume. I’m supposed to meet them in about an hour to do the costume for the other model.” That’s when you remembered. If you were Até, then someone else would be Eros. In the sex story. That you wrote.
Shit.
“Who’s the other model?” You asked, looking up at him now. He scratched his beard again, pressing his lips together. He looked like he was about to laugh. “Zayn!”
“It’s Louis.” At the look on your face, Zayn did laugh. Boisterously. You hated Louis, who had been Zayn’s roommate for the year he was forced to live in the dorms. He and Louis became best friends and you had been unable to get rid of him since. He was snarky, rude, and full of sass. He got on your last nerve and you often had fantasies of punching him in the face. Now, you would be doing this with him. What were you getting yourself into?
“There’s no way I can get out of this, is there?” You groaned, dropping your head onto the table.
“Sorry, no.”
So an hour later, you went with Zayn to the theater where Louis was waiting for you, his trademark snarky grin pasted on. The theater students, two girls and a guy, were more than happy to have the two of you strip down into your underwear. You thanked providence that you were wearing cute underwear—not that you cared what Louis thought, but you might as well be happy that you look good. You tried not to notice how nice he looked in his blue and green striped boxers: how the muscles of his thighs were sharply defined and his lean torso, decorated in random ink, made you think strange thoughts. One of the girls fawned over him, laughing too loud at everything he said (he wasn’t even that funny, jeez) and lingering on his muscles as she draped white fabric over him. Zayn stood with her, adjusting the costume for his vision—whatever the heck that was—and eventually came up with very toga-ish outfit, tied at the waist by a golden tassel and clipped at the shoulder with a small metal pin painted gold and shaped like a flowering vine. The upper portion of the toga only barely covered his chest and the guy from the theater department began designing fake tattoos to make Louis’ silly designs seem more Eros-like. The other girl was working on you, giving you a draped form with a hanging neckline that displayed the curve of your breasts and a short skirt that almost bared your butt cheeks. Then, she added a thick gold braided belt that made your waist look tiny and began clipping your hair up per Zayn’s instructions.
“Do you have any of those sandals with the straps?” he asked, doing a crisscross pattern with his hands on his calves.
“Gladiator sandals?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. “Yes. I can wear them.”
“There’s something off…” Zayn muttered, squinching his face up as he peered at you. “Louis’ good but there’s just something off for yours…” Louis smiled smugly behind Zayn. “Take off your bra?” You obliged, slipping the straps off of your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “Can you tighten the top so it hugs her breast?” The girl working on you grabbed the fabric and pulled, squeezing your breasts. “Little looser.” She let it out so that your breasts were cupped but not held taunt. “There. Perfect.”
“Perfect?” You asked, raising your eyebrows and shooting Louis a snide glance.
“Yeah, we’ll just put some flowers in your hair and braid it.” Zayn looked so happy about how the two of you turned out that you decided you weren’t going to tell him you couldn’t braid your own hair. After working out some deals to get the girls to come dress you on the day of the shoot, you and Louis redressed and headed out. Throughout the week, you overheard Zayn on the phone arguing about locations. But on Thursday morning, at three am sharp, Zayn woke you up with a wild light in his eyes and dragged you out of bed.
“The sun’s not even up yet,” you whined, sitting up and rubbing your eyes in the front seat of his car. He had the car packed, all his camera equipment behind him and everything he thought you needed behind you. “Where are we even going?”
“I got the botanical gardens,” Zayn said, wiggling in his seat. The botanical gardens were almost impossible to book, which made sense of the early time. He’d booked the gardens from four to six am. Louis met you there, yawning widely and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Zayn gave the both of you coffee loaded down with sugar for Louis and cream and sugar for you. The girls from the theater department dressed you in the parking lot while Zayn scoped out the gardens, but as soon as you were dressed, they went home, tired and disgruntled from the early wake up. You sat on the curb, trying desperately to braid your hair with no luck. Letting out a deep groan of frustration, you gave up and dropped your head to your knees.
“You alright?” Louis asked, pausing in his application of his fake tattoos.
“Don’t tell Zayn… I can’t braid hair,” You admitted, your voice muffled from your knees.
“Let’s make a deal,” Louis said, crouching down in front of you and forcing you to look at him. “I’ll braid your hair and you help me with these stupid stencils.” You grudgingly accepted and he perched behind you, taking your hair in his thin, deft fingers. It only took him a couple minutes before he stood with a satisfied smile on his face. He handed you a mirror and smirked. As much as you hated the self-satisfied look on his face, he had every right to look that way. Your hair was crafted beautifully into a side braid, loose with tendrils dripping everywhere.
“How did you learn to do that?” You asked, turning to stare at him in shock.
“I have four younger sisters,” He answered. “Now, my turn.” You stood with him and carefully applied the watered down face paint to the stencils, turning his random pictures into a detailed floral design with arrows thrown in for nice effect. There was a good portion that went over his abdomen, curling from his left side over his stomach and you tried not to notice his hard muscles underneath his warm, golden skin.
“You guys ready?” Zayn asked, coming up behind you and tapping his foot impatiently. You finished applying the last of Louis’ temporary tattoos and then turned. Zayn let out a low whistle, grinning at you. “Wow.”
“Good enough?” You asked, doing a slow spin for him.
“Yes. Wow.” Zayn’s eyes started at your feet, clad in gladiator sandals that laced all the way up to your knees, roving over the skin of your thighs, taking in your artificially tiny waist and up over your breasts to rest on your face. While the girls were dressing you, you had taken the time to do winged eyeliner, black with gold filigree, and highlight your face to the extremes, hollowing out your cheeks. It changed your face enough to make you look exotic, maybe even goddess-like.
“Don’t I get a wow, too?” Louis asked, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. Zayn marched over and fondled his chest and biceps before pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“You’re always a wow, love,” Zayn muttered, walking away.
“Sure you’re not dating?” You murmured, following him into the garden. Zayn winked at you quickly before setting to work. The opening scene involved Até (you) perched in the trees, following Eros (Louis) as he paced along a thin stream. There weren’t any strong enough trees near the single stream, so Zayn was going to combine the photos. He took shots of you climbing through the trees, then shots of Louis strolling past the stream, carefree and lazy. After that, things began to get interesting.
The next shot was something Zayn inserted into the story line that you were mostly against. He arranged Louis out on a large rock overlooking a koi pond with his eyes shut and a pleasantly sexual look on his face while you laid on a tree branch above him, your braid hiding your face, but your body language yearning toward Louis. Thank God your face was hidden because you were not feeling any sexual attraction toward that sarcastic piece of shit smirking up at you.
Next was the capture scene. Até, after stalking Eros for some time, captures him in a grove of olive trees and begins to seduce him, running her fingertips over his entire body as he traveled from smug disinterest into shocked arousal. Originally, you loved this scene. It was a lot of fun to write and seeing a man at the mercy of a woman was too good. However, now it was you and Louis and it was completely different. Zayn clicked rapidly away at his camera, as you acted out the scene, trying to get into your inner goddess mode. But you couldn’t. You just couldn’t touch Louis that way, couldn’t do those things to him, not to Louis. Not ever. After three or four tries, Zayn gave a shout of exasperation and let you take a break, shaking his head at you before stalking away and muttering under his breath.
“I don’t want to ruin his project,” You sighed, settling down against an olive tree. “I just…”
“You hate me.” Louis was frank, sitting down next to you and leaning his head back against the smooth bark of the tree.
“Well… Yeah. I do.” You knew that there was no point in lying to him. It was obvious to everyone that had spent five minutes with the both of you that you hated him. You two sat for a while in silence, neither wanting to say anything because there was nothing you could say that wouldn’t sound fake or insincere.
“You care about Zayn a lot,” Louis finally said. You looked at him, waiting for him to continue because you could tell it wasn’t a question. You lived with your heart on your sleeve; just like everyone knew you hated Louis, they all knew you loved Zayn. “So… For him. Just pretend I’m someone else. I promise I’ll cut out the sarcasm and rude looks.”
“Keep the snark.” It was out of your mouth before you could catch it back.
“What?” Louis looked just as confused as you felt.
“Look, you’re portraying Eros. The Greek’s Cupid. Keep the snarkiness.” Zayn returned to find the two of you smiling at each other. There was something in his face suddenly that changed how you saw him. Maybe it was the lack of disdain written across his brows, but suddenly his face was softer, kinder, and you noticed for the first time just how blue his eyes were.
Zayn was more than a little frustrated, his eyes deeply shadowed, but he was eager to get the shoot moving again. As soon as he asked you to begin, he saw the change. Some energy leaked into him as he shot you stalking across the grass to Louis. He nearly started wiggling in excitement when you were done with the scene.
“Okay, I don’t know what you said to her, Lou, but this is great!” Zayn crowed, flipping back through the photos. He was practically glowing. “You read the story, right?”
“Yeah, of course. I love reading porn.” You elbowed Louis sharply, glaring at him and trying not to let a grin slip past your lips.
“Could we just… Like, could you guys just act it out? Without all the pausing and changing scenes? We’ve got the olive grove and the flowering trees here and if you guys keep up whatever this chemistry is, we can finish before dawn.”
“I can if she can,” Louis answered, giving you a superior look while Zayn was watching. The second he rolled his eyes and went to fiddle with his equipment, though, Louis’ smug look faded into a gentler smile. “You good, then?” He asked, touching your elbow and leaning into you. After the way you touched him in that shoot, you were feeling weird things toward Louis. And from the way he was standing closer and just casually touching you, you were guessing he was feeling some weird things too.
“Yeah, let’s do it.” There was a long moment of eye contact that Zayn broke by grabbing you and arranging you underneath the tree, having Louis lean back against the trunk itself.
“Just… move slowly, okay? Act it out but slowly.” According to Zayn’s instructions, as you began the shoot, you went as slow as you could. You began crouched at Louis’ feet as he stared down at you. Achingly slow, you rose, your hands sliding up his side, cupping every muscle you could, grabbing at the firm balls of his calves, fingering the lines of his thighs, squeezing his butt, and letting your fingers dance across the smooth panes of his golden torso. The farther up you traveled, the heavier his breath became until he was panting as your fingers traced across his shoulders and down his back, you mouth inches from his but your eyes turned demurely toward the ground. His neck was arched back, his head pressed against the bark of the tree and his eyes raised toward the sky. You paused for only a second before you pressed your lips to the warm, flushed skin of his neck, the first time you had ever touched him that way. Your teeth clipped his jaw, just barely enough to leave a red mark on him. He turned to jelly with your touch, pressing himself against the tree trunk but arching his bare skin toward you. Your lips traced down his neck, your teeth grazing his skin and your tongue leaving wet marks on him. As your teeth hit the thin curve of his collarbone, Louis broke character and changed the story.
Originally, Até was in control the entire time. Eros completely succumbed to her passion and seduction. She was in charge and he was like a puppet for her. That was story you wrote. But either Louis had not liked it when he had read it or he changed his mind about it when your teeth came out. When you looked at the photos later with Zayn, you saw the exact moment that Louis had abandoned the submissive role you gave him. When your mouth closed over the line of his collarbone, his eyes flew open, completely dropping the limp and aroused façade, and his muscles clenched. That’s when you looked up and noticed the change. He was staring down at you, fire in his eyes, and fierce emotion in the line of his mouth. His soft features hardened, transforming from impish pleasure to devilish arousal. It was like watching your soft little kitten become a lion in front of your eyes. His hand snaked into your carefully mussed hair and locked on, his thin fingers expertly spaced so that he had complete control. His other arm latched around your waist and pressed your body tightly against his, forcing your legs apart with his knee and never breaking eye contact with you.
Once again, looking at the photos later with Zayn, you noticed many things that scared you. For example, the way your eyes dilated so much that your pupil was almost gone or the way your body language invited him in, as your shoulders pushed back and your breasts strained against the fabric, or the way that your head fought against his hand, trying to meet his lips with your own. At the time, however, you were unaware of all these minor changes in your demeanor. In one quick motion, Louis threw himself on the ground with you, catching the fall on his arm behind your back.
“Slower, guys! Move slow!” Zayn reminded, glaring at Louis, who was too busy staring at you to even glance at him.
“I can do slower,” He murmured, his mouth just barely missing yours. You felt tingles spread out over your body as he loosened his grip on your hair and you let your head fall back gently onto the grass.
“You ready to start removing the togas?” Zayn asked, as you drew your arms back over your head, leaving your body open and limp underneath Louis’ lithe form. You nodded slowly, letting your eyes drift shut in Louis’ strong blue gaze. Zayn had made a point to make sure that neither of you wore anything underneath the togas so when Louis unclipped the top of his toga and you tucked the spare fabric in the waistband, you touched the curve of Louis’ bare butt and took a moment to actually feel it rather than just that fleeting touch, watching his eyes widen just enough that you knew you had surprised him. You liked that. You liked knowing that you could shock him and suddenly decided that’s exactly what you would do from here out. He had spent years messing with you, trying to upset you and shock you and set you off-kilter. Now you were going to do it to him.
Once again moving faster than Zayn would have liked, Louis unclipped your top as well, pushing aside the fabric and baring your breasts to the chill air. The cool morning was a blessing for you but would probably not be as great for Louis. From there, things began to escalate faster than you would normally allow but you were half asleep and it was for Zayn’s project, right? So it was okay. Louis’ mouth touched you in places that you would never have allowed hours earlier but now you were encouraging. When it began to seem a bit repetitive, you took it a step further and untied Louis’ belt, allowing the only thing covering his hard-on to fall away, leaving him completely naked on top of you. He responded by rolling you over through a patch of small purple crocuses that caught in your hair. He took a moment, with you over him, to thread one of the flowers into your braid, his fingers soft and tender. Then he removed your toga as well.
The story you wrote did have sex in it. Eros and Até succumbed to their passion and fucked, alternating between tender and caring, the type of sex that made a baby, and hard and controlling, the type of sex that left everyone involved sore and covered in bruises. You, Louis, and Zayn had discussed not taking it that far, but in attempting to make you uncomfortable, Louis had challenged that, saying you should stick to the story and he was perfectly comfortably having Zayn photograph him having sex. You couldn’t back down from that, of course.
But as you laid over him, naked and ready, he paused.
“Stop,” Louis said, looking at Zayn for the first time since your talk. “I can’t.” You and Zayn both stared at him, shocked.
“What do you mean?” Zayn asked, glancing subtly down at his penis. You could feel it pressed against your leg and you knew that Louis was physically able to have sex with you—clearly no shyness on his part.
“I’m not going to have sex with Y/N while you photograph it. I can’t.” Louis was obstinate. After Zayn arguing with him for a moment about changing it this late in the game, you asked him to stop. You agreed with Louis. You didn’t want to do that either. So Zayn decided to go for subtlety: rather than photographing outright sex, he hinted at it. You and Louis continued touching and kissing and leading up to the act but never doing it and with some clever camera angles and well placed shots, Zayn made it look like you were. The shoot finished with Louis lying in the crocuses, seemingly exhausted from the sex, as you rose and your hair, now loose, hung about your chest. Pausing only to pick up your toga, Até disappeared amongst the trees, leaving Eros in a passionate thrall.
“That was amazing!” Zayn crowed, grinning from ear to ear as you and Louis quickly dressed, not looking at each other.
“Can I go back to bed now?” You whined, pulling grass out of your hair.
“Yeah, just let me grab my equipment.” You and Louis helped him gather up and his stuff and pack it away into the car. Every time your hands brushed or your eyes met, a flush traveled up your face and his. You were hyperaware of how close he stood. Zayn just kept babbling on about how well he was going to do on this project and how excited he was about these pictures. Finally, he had everything loaded up.
“I’ll see you later?” Louis asked, his voice too soft for Zayn to hear. You nodded, tucking your hair behind your ear. The small crocus fell out as you did. You had completely forgotten about that flower that Louis had given you. He picked it up and handed it to back to you, slow enough that you wondered if he was sure of himself. But with a final wave, you got into Zayn’s car and he drove away, leaving you with a final image of Louis standing next to his car, staring after you.
“I am really happy with how that went,” Zayn said, practically glowing with happiness. You forced a smile to your face and murmured in agreement. “I mean, when I read your story, I was kind of afraid that you and Louis wouldn’t be able to put your hatred aside. But if I didn’t know better, I’d have said you guys wanted to have sex with each other!” Zayn laughed and you made yourself laugh with him. “How stupid is that?”
“Yeah, so stupid,” You murmured, spinning the purple flower in your hand and trying to erase the memory of his dancing blue eyes staring after you.