Work Text:
i.
Niall tastes like sunshine. Okay, occasionally he tastes like chips. Sometimes bacon or even pizza.
But, really, he tastes like fun and laughter. Like light and games and sugar and happiness.
Kissing Niall is like diving into a cool lake and then flopping back on the grass to let the sun dry your skin. And sometimes it feels like too much, like the light could burn your eyes, like your body just won't be able to take that much heat, but then a breeze will come and you end up laughing when the grass blades tickle your heated skin.
ii.
Harry tastes like luxury. Not because he's selfish with his affection - on the contrary, sweet kisses and tight hugs more common than handshakes.
It's less to do with rarity and more to do with how it seems like you did nothing to deserve it. Full pink lips and wicked tongue like treats you're not sure were meant for you, like it's not your place to have them.
Kissing Harry is like a bed covered in silk sheets that you're not sure you can lie on but can't resist taking a running leap into, burying your face into cool softness while spreading your limbs like you're making snow angels.
iii.
Zayn tastes like warmth. Okay, sometimes, it's mint. Often, smoke.
But he's kind words and gentle caresses and welcoming hugs that are much bigger than his scrawny limbs should be capable of. He's easy smiles that taste like a secret, warm wet lips that steal your breath and inspire you to write a billion verses to try and capture how they make you feel.
Kissing Zayn is like getting in from the snow, stripping off wet clothing and cuddling in front of a fire, hiding from the world under blankets, sharing body heat until the shivers wrecking your skin have nothing to do with cold.
iv.
Louis tastes like home. Sometimes like tea. Okay, okay, often it's like weed.
He tries to hide it, but he's a nurturer. Smiles tasting like acceptance on your tongue, fingertips mapping out reciprocity on your skin, teeth biting play with me in the crook of your neck, hugs like being wrapped in the comfort of being exactly where you belong.
Kissing Louis is like unlocking your door after months of being abroad, surrounded by languages you don't understand, eating food your tongue can't recognize. It's like taking off your shoes and unpacking your bag, doing your laundry and reclaiming the place that is the most you in the world.
v.
Liam often wonders what he tastes like to them, what is it about him that makes them seek him, that makes them stay.
He'd never ask them. A part of him always afraid of their answer, through no fault of theirs. But it can't be bad when they keep coming back for more, right? Maybe his arms feel like protection. Or maybe his hugs feel like welcome.
He hopes his kisses taste like love.