Liam always wondered if married sex was any different than hooking up sex, or making-it-offical sex, or fiance sex, and he supposes now that the answer is both yes, and also no.
It’s not different in the way that Zayn giggles against his kisses still, or the way that Zayn’s body feels beneath his own - all lithe and strong and small. It’s not different in how Zayn’s moans are higher pitched than he’d ever like to admit, or the way Zayn’s fingernails dig into Liam’s back each time Liam thrusts in harder. There’s also no difference in the way Liam feels about Zayn - like each nerve is on fire and his heart is going to burst.
But married sex is different in the way that even if it felt like this was forever before, he /know/ it’s forever now. And it’s different in the way the low light of their master suite in their private villa glints off of the gold band on Zayn’s finger where Zayn’s hand rests up against his head on the pillow.
The “I love you” Zayn whispers against his lips is the same one Liam’s heard for the last five years, but it’s different, too, because now Zayn’s his husband.