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“Yeah,” Niall says, “That’s good, just-”
Perrie shimmies out of her sweats and settles beside Niall in their big bed, props her chin on his shoulder. He tips his head so their cheeks press together, and she can feel his blush, this close, like a fever. Keeping her eyes on Zayn, she rucks up Niall’s tank, drawing figure eights up his lower stomach to his ribs, drifting her fingertips through the sandy hair under his belly button. Niall goes tense under her touch, breathes out a shuddery noise.
“How is he?” Perrie asks, and Niall inhales, sharp, turns to press his mouth and nose into her jaw. She can feel his eyelashes against her cheek, frantic like he can’t quite control even that little bit of himself.
“Good,” he says, finally. “Jesus, e’s good, Pez.”
Perrie lays her palm flat at the tender skin of Niall’s stomach between his hipbones, keeps her fingertips moving lazily, back and forth, and meets Zayn’s eyes. He looks lost and deep in this, his eyes gone dark and watery, eyelashes sticking to his cheeks when he closes his eyes, and he’s to the point of not caring about the noise, doesn’t attempt to muffle his own moan or the wet slurp of his mouth coming off Niall’s cock.
Perrie can’t really imagine how good that is; she can feel Niall tensing with it, she can watch Zayn’s lips swell up pink and glossy, but the closest she can come to really getting it is when she eases her hand down to Niall’s prick, slides a finger in Zayn’s mouth alongside it. Zayn makes a choked little sound, and Perrie feels a heated flick of his tongue as he struggles to take it without pulling away. Niall is whining, now, urgent as his hips twitch up against their touch.
She can feel it when he comes, his cock thickening, pressing her finger against the corner of Zayn’s mouth, scraping his teeth, and the frantic fluttering of Zayn’s throat as he swallows. Niall crumples beside her, leaning his head into her shoulder.
Zayn sits back on his heels, shaking a little, and Perrie can almost see the energy radiating off him. She can’t move, not without dislodging Niall, but she can reach out for him, and of course he comes, straddling her thigh on the opposite side as Niall and twining fingers into her hair, tipping her head up to kiss her like she wants. She can feel the phantom tingle in her lips of times when she’s been the one with her lips wrapped around a cock, and it mixes with the taste of the two of them in Zayn’s mouth and makes her smile. “So good, Z,” she mutters, soft against his lips when he leans back, and doesn’t give him time to be proud before she’s pulling him back in, licking his mouth clean.