Angel's Mural │ Ziall Horlik AU

The summer of 1831 was especially hot on the back's of the Horan families slaves, one in particular being Zayn, the lightest skinned of all the thrall's. And Niall, the younger, more sensible of the Horan's two sons, took a liking to watching Zayn's dark flesh sweat, drip down his neck and across his forehead until he grabbed the hem of his shirt, pealing it off him, the fabric sticking to him which always drove Niall past the point of no return, his mouth watering, thirst rising within him before retreating for the house, were he scurried to his room to pleasure himself. Not that anyone knew that. This was a strict family who stuck to morals and traditions, one being, You do not lust for that slaves...especially not one of the same sex.