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Their shower was uneventful, unfortunately. While Style was beyond tired and he felt like his legs were going to give out at any moment, he still, of course, tried his best to spur Fadel on.
Fadel was unamused, focusing only on washing up himself before forcing Style to do the same. Style was a brat, though, so he ran his mouth while leaning his full body weight on Fadel, who stood like an immoveable rock. He just kept up the banter as his eyes went unfocused, watching the soap run down Fadel's back as the man washed up.
Once he was satisfied with himself, Fadel had to hold up a limp Style, forcing the man's limbs this way and that to scrub the evidence of their activities off. Style didn't care, although he whined the entire time, only shutting up when Fadel finally started to rub soap all over him.
He didn't know if Fadel was trying to get him riled up or if Fadel was trying his best to keep him awake. He supposed he'd never find out, but either way, he was getting riled up. Fadel didn't react to anything Style did or said, but that didn't stop him from saying anything. He was miffed his body was too sore to let him move, otherwise, he'd have tried his damndest to give Fadel a handjob right there, soap suds and all. It didn't help that Fadel's own hands kept passing over Style's nipples, which were already hard and sensitive from their activities earlier.
When Style's dick started to twitch to life from all the teasing, Fadel immediately shut him down.
"Why—" Style whined, drawing out the word when Fadel forced him under the spray to rinse off instead of pressing their bodies closer, like Style wanted.
"We're done," Fadel said, but his eyes betrayed his lust as he stared down Style's body, taking his time in letting his eyes drag up. His gaze made Style's cock twitch once again.
"I am very clearly not," Style quipped, gesturing crudely to his crotch.
Fadel's lips twitched and his brows rose slightly. "Are you ever satisfied?" he asked. His eyes were warm, but he didn't reach for Style again. He reached past Style to turn off the water, and the moment the warm water was gone Style shivered. The water had hidden how sore he was.
Style winked. "Maybe, but when I'm with you I can't ever get enough." His wink was more like a droopy-eyed blink as the tiredness really began to sink into his bones, and Fadel didn't miss that. He reached for Style again and helped him step out of the shower, ignoring his bratty remarks and quips to instead focus on wrapping a towel around his waist before helping dry him off. After grabbing his own towel, he led them to Style's bed, where Style flopped onto it unceremoniously with a heavy sigh. The towel around his waist drooped lazily off of his body, barely covering his crotch as he laid sprawled out on his back.
Fadel dried himself off, and Style watched him with droopy, exhausted eyes. Their day was catching up to them, and his room was nice and dim, and Style suddenly felt sleepy. The last dredges of arousal in his gut simmered into nothing, but he still admired Fadel's form. "C'mere," Style mumbled, patting the space next to him.
"I'm not finished yet," Fadel replied simply. Style didn't stop patting the space next to him. He kept doing so until Fadel let out a soft sigh, letting the towel hit the ground, before clambering into bed next to Style. Style rolled to the side to press himself up against Fadel, and the other man allowed him. They were silent for a long while, just soaking in the afterglow and tired atmosphere.
Not trying to start anything, just wanting to feel, Style trailed a finger across the broad expanse of Fadel's shoulders. His touch moved, trailing down to his chest. Style wanted to watch where his fingers went, so he scooted back just a little, letting his touch lightly trace a defined pec, but he paused, frowning.
"What happened here? This scar?" He brushed against it lightly, not missing the way Fadel shivered. He felt him shift, probably looking down, but Style didn't move, his eyes glued on the mark.
Fadel hummed. "Just a little accident."
"Will you tell me about it?" Style asked softly.
Sensing the man's hesitation, Style moved back just a little further, meeting Fadel's gaze. It was guarded and expressionless, although his slight frown told a story.
"Why do you want to know?"
Well, Style thought to himself, because you've already made me come so much tonight and I figured that meant you could open up to me a little. We're close right? Boyfriends. You've given me an in. You've given me the chance to ask you questions, so I want to get to know you better, you know, before you inevitably have to go to jail. "I want to know more about you. You don't tell me anything. Like the Rise Up support group... why do you go?"
Fadel looked like he was going to deflect again. He opened his mouth and hesitated, and his gaze slid down, unfocused, as if he were thinking of what to say. When his eyes moved back up to Style's, his face was a lot softer. It was a strange expression on him, something Style hadn't seen a lot.
Style waited patiently, his gaze unwavering. He truly did want to know more about Fadel. He knew that he was stoic and serious, but that wasn't all of him. It wasn't even a major part of who he was. Style saw through the cracks; he knew deep down Fadel had to be broken in some way, too.
And of course he also knew Fadel was still very much a hitman, so he was expecting a vague answer. Something that could be the truth, could be a lie, could mean nothing and could mean everything.
"I lost my parents."
Oh. Well, that was a lot deeper of an answer than Style had anticipated, but that meant Fadel trusted him at least a little, and he'd take what he could get. Style's heart fluttered.
"You can talk to me, you know," Style said honestly, his hand stilling. He met Fadel's eyes and didn't move, and Fadel didn't say anything. He just looked at him. "I lost my mother to cancer. You don't have to tell anyone else."
But I wish you'd tell me, was Style's non-spoken thoughts.
Fadel shifted, and Style was worried he was going to move away, but he just settled a hand over the hand Style had resting on his chest.
"My parents were murdered," he finally said, and Style's heart dropped into his stomach. It was as if Fadel couldn't take the eye contact anymore, because he looked away, staring resolutely across the room.
"I'm sorry." Style didn't know what to say to show Fadel his support. He was good at cracking jokes, using humor to get out of any uncomfortable situation. But he couldn't joke about this. Would never joke about it. "Uh, let's change the subject. Have you ever had any lovers before?"
This brought Fadel's gaze back to him, but his lips were still in a firm line, his eyes hard and distant. He shook his head. "No. My life isn't exactly easy. I don't want to drag anyone along with me."
Oh, but Style would gladly let Fadel drag him along anywhere. Metaphorically and physically. He would thank the man if he physically did it. In fact, that sounded really hot, but now wasn't the time for his mind to wander.
Style knew what Fadel was insinuating to, though Fadel didn't know that he knew about his unethical occupation. He figured he'd use this chance to get Fadel to think long and hard about what he was doing with his life, but in a subtle way that wouldn't reveal he knew. He started by giving Fadel a look that was a mixture of faux confusion and amusement. "Owning a burger joint means you can't date?"
"I don't think anyone wants to risk their life with me."
True, but Style liked Fadel far too much for his own good. He liked to think that his life was in danger a little too often, anyway. "What risk?"
The way Fadel blinked, as if he realized what he said and immediately tried to play it off as nothing, was a little funny and almost endearing. He removed his hand from overtop Style's, which had Style nearly pouting. "I mean the risk of the business going under. Running a restaurant isn't exactly a stable job."
Style stared, fighting back a smirk as Fadel refused to meet his gaze again. Fadel was trying to save face. Without thinking, Style was grabbing at Fadel's hand, holding it firmly and what he hoped was reassuringly. This made Fadel meet his eyes, but his gaze was a lot softer now.
"Maybe you just need to find something else to do, something that allows you to love," he said gently with a little smile.
They sat like that, the tension between them not sexual or angry, just sad, a little somber. And yet the air around them was comfortable. Style felt content, and he could tell Fadel felt the same.
Days later, when Kant asked Style to invite Fadel on a double date, Style was both nervous and excited. Their little conversation left Style feeling like his heart would fall out of his chest. He knew being honest with Kant would only shatter his heart more, but it seemed Kant still wanted to go through with the plan.
Style didn't. He really didn't. He liked Fadel too much to send him to jail. But he couldn't tell Kant that without breaking his best friend's heart and making him hate Style forever.
They walked into the bowling alley, Style happily wearing his little team jersey. Oh, Fadel was going to love this. Sauntering up to the table Fadel and Bison were occupying, Kant explained the reasoning, and Bison seemed to like it.
Style pointed to his shirt. "Here I've got F and S: Fadel and Style. I put your name first, you like that?" He grinned, tossing Fadel the other shirt slung over his shoulder. Fadel didn't move, and it hit him square in the face before flopping down onto his lap. Eyebrow twitch. Yup, Fadel was having a great time.
While Bison was happily holding up his shirt, Fadel sighed and tossed his shirt back to Style, who caught it with an affronted look on his face.
"Hey! I customized this shirt for you, you know. You should wear it, so we can match. We'll be the cutest couple here!"
"I'm not wearing it."
Bison groaned. "Killjoy."
Fadel shot him a look that seemed to say 'you too?'
"Can you not just relax a little for once?" Bison complained, and Fadel sighed, looking back towards a grinning Style.
"How do you know my size?"
Really, Fadel? Style's hands have touched every single inch of Fadel's body, but he wants to know how he knows his size? He hummed, leaning his hands onto the table. "I've touched you enough times to know," he answered with a little wink.
He didn't even need to wink, the innuendo in his words already making Fadel's face twitch, but he didn't blush. He didn't seem angry or annoyed, either, just thoughtful.
"Come on, please? An S can't be without his F," Style pleaded. As much as Style did like the brooding and dark Fadel when he was in public, he also missed the open and relaxed Fadel when they were in private. Both were sexy, though.
Kant and Bison chimed in with their support, and the way Fadel's face was just so stubbornly set made Style's grin widen impossibly farther. It seemed the man was going to be a sourpuss the whole date, but Style would have fun regardless.
"Fine," Fadel relented. "But I'm taking it off as soon as we're done."
The words were already on the tip of Style's tongue, and they came out before his brain could even filter them first.
"Sure, you can take it off at my place."
Kant laughed. "Style! You—"
Sexy, horny, ridiculously attractive whore for Fadel? Yes, Style was.
Fadel stood and yanked the shirt from Style's hands. He hoped that Fadel would also yank his clothes off at Style's house after their date, too, and take Style over a counter again, or a couch, or on his floor. Anywhere worked. Fadel could press him against a wall, and he'd be begging for it all the same. As long as it ended with Style filled to the brim with cum, and maybe even some choking, Style would be happy.
Their double date was going off without a hitch, and Fadel actually seemed to be enjoying himself, although Style had a lot to do with that. He'd made Fadel crack a small, amused smile, and he was so giddy about it he was practically buzzing. Even though most of the night was filled with a stoic, unimpressed Fadel, which included lots of eye rolls and sighs, Style knew Fadel was enjoying his company, and that meant everything. The fact that Fadel was there, with him, wearing his matching team shirt made him feel special.
Even the heavy tension in his gut from his guilty conscience didn't dampen his mood.
After their little karaoke session, which had Style's stomach doing happy flip flops when Fadel joined in after much prodding. It was fun, and watching Fadel's face go from stony, to slightly annoyed, to a little confused as he barely muttered while singing along with them was amusing.
Once Kant left with the excuse the bullies were picking on Babe again, Style felt the guilt come back full force. He knew that wasn't true, that that wasn't why Kant was leaving. He knew what his friend was up to, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Fadel. If he did, there was a high possibility he'd be losing Fadel and his best friend, and that wasn't something he was ready for yet. And he also didn't like the fact that Fadel might actually murder him in that situation. It'd be justified, though, right?
"I'm gonna head over to Kant's place. He's been gone too long," Bison announced after a long while had passed. Style was sweating bullets.
"He'll be here soon," Style said, his voice slightly shaky, but Bison didn't seem to notice. He just shook his head.
"I'm worried. And I want to make sure Babe is okay, as well."
Fadel hummed. "Okay, see you tomorrow."
Bison frowned. "Wait, you're not coming home?"
There was no response from Fadel as he drank from his mug of beer, and while Style was still feeling the weight of guilt on his heart, he puffed out his chest, more than happy that Fadel was going to be coming back to his place with him.
"I'm taking this bad boy home with me. I've got to make sure the shirt gets back safely, right?"
Bison just shrugged. "Alright. Bye." With a short and small wave, Bison left. As soon as he was gone, Fadel let out a sigh, placing his beer mug down onto the table.
"We're not staying much longer," Fadel said, but Style could already see his resolve cracking, because he gave a small, tiny smile. It was so small it was barely noticeable, but Style saw it, and it made his heart pound in his chest.
"What, can't wait to get back so you can get out of the shirt?" Style asked teasingly, grinning, as he reached over to tug playfully at the hem of said shirt.
"Can't wait to get back to get you out of your pants," he responded back monotonously.
Oh, fuck yeah. The sexy and flirty Fadel was back and in action, baby! Now, if Style could just ignore his guilty conscious for the rest of the night, they'd have no problems.
He winked. "Oh, you've been thinking of all the places in my house you can rail me? Can I suggest the shower?"
"The bedroom, on your back."
Well, that was a very tame and vanilla request for the kinky, dominant, beyond sexy bastard. He couldn't help it. His mind wandered. What kind of position did Fadel want to bend him into on his bed? Would he ride him? Tie his wrists together with one of Style's belts and press his hands above his head?
He'd find out, he supposed, when he was back at his place with his pants around his ankles. He could hardly wait. Actually, he'd be happy with starting their sexy times in the parking lot. He'd be fine if it was in Fadel's car. He'd be even better if Fadel just fucked him right here, at their table. Let the other bowling alley patrons stare. Let their eyes feast upon two Sex Gods getting it on, showing them the best porn they'd ever witness.
Style grinned. "The bedroom, you say?"
"On your back," Fadel reiterated, and his gaze was back on Style's, unwavering. The gaze was dark. Predatory.
Style couldn't fucking wait. He had to get out of the bowling alley now.
"On my back," he agreed, standing. "Now, c'mon, let's go." He held out his hand, waiting, and he could see Fadel's eyes travel to his outstretched hand. A tiny smile made its way onto his lips, and Style had to press down the guilt bubbling up in his throat. "Unless you want to take me right here?"
That seemed to spur Fadel on. He grabbed his hand and Style was tugged along behind him as he stalked towards the exit.
He didn't let go of his hand as they left, and the night was cool around them as Fadel stalked towards his car, dragging a giggling, horny Style along with him.
The ride to his place was tense, the air full of arousal and sexual energy, and it made Style's head spin pleasantly.
The moment Fadel pulled up to Style's place, they both left the car, and Style practically jumped Fadel right there and then, but the man wouldn't let him. It made his lust shoot through the roof, the fact that Fadel so easily held him off, even as he was pressing his body as close as possible, pushing him into the hood of Fadel's car, his erection poking against Fadel's thigh.
"Fuck me on your car, baby," he whispered into Fadel's mouth. He didn't care if someone could see them, he wanted Fadel now, and the thrill of getting caught only spurred him on further.
"No," Fadel muttered. "Inside."
"I'm fine with here."
"I said, inside." And there was the demanding tone, the rough and gravelly words that sent Style's mind into a tizzy and made his cock twitch excitedly.
"Ooh, so demanding. What, are you gonna tell me to strip for you when we're in my room? I'll put on show for you, if you want."
"No." That no brooked no argument. "I'll do it for you." He sounded so casual, like he was saying the weather was going to be rainy.
And, well, fuck, that just got Style even more riled up.
He didn't argue after that. Fadel dragged him through Style's garage, and while going through, Style stared at the spot where he and Fadel had lovely garage floor sex the other day. He had already reluctantly cleaned up their mess, as he would have been happy to leave it there for eternity, marking it as a place of historical importance: The Spot Where Fadel First Came Inside Style.
That thought sent his brain into another tailspin. He really wanted Fadel to come inside him again. He was addicted, he'd admit it. The way it would feel so warm and gooey inside of him, feeling it dribble down his inner thighs. It felt dirty, it felt filthy. And fuck, did Style want to be downright disgusting.
It took them less time to get to Style's dimly lit room than he could have ever thought possible, and suddenly he was in the middle of it, and Fadel was on him.
The kiss was full of restrained passion, and Style was having none of it. He bit at Fadel's bottom lip, pulling him closer, but Fadel didn't take the bait. Whining in frustration, Style pulled away, a pout already on his lips as Fadel moved to his throat.
"Are you seriously trying to tease me right now?" he complained. He felt a smirk on his skin. Oh, so Fadel thought it was funny? "You rude, sexy piece of ass—" Style laughed. His laughter was cut short when Fadel bit his throat, making him gasp, a moan bubbling up in his chest. But all too soon, Fadel was pulling away.
Okay, Style was done with waiting. He took a step away from Fadel, loving the dark look in his eyes, the way they were predatory, hungry. They scanned his body as if they'd devour him whole. And, oh, did Style want to be eaten.
Without another thought, Style pressed Fadel's chest towards his bed, winking lasciviously. Fadel's gaze never wavered as his knees hit the bed and he was forced to sit down, and it was only broken when Style grabbed the hem of his own jersey and pulled it off in one swift motion. God, the look on Fadel's face. It made Style preen and feel proud. Well, it barely moved, but his eyes widened just an bit. That was enough for Style.
He'd gotten himself all riled up on the way, and he could already feel precome wetting the front of his underwear, and the sight of Fadel laying back down on his bed and getting himself comfortable against his pillows was enough for Style to go into overdrive. He knew Fadel wanted him on his back, but that could come later. First, he wanted to get his mouth on the man.
He clambered on top of Fadel, leaning over him like a predator about to pounce, his hands supporting him beside Fadel's form. Fuck, he was so sexy. Sprawled out just for Style. Oh, how he was going to take and take and take—
But, Style paused, taking in the way Fadel looked so... soft and vulnerable. His eyes were half-lidded, darkened with arousal. It was like his body was inviting Style in, asking him to take and to give. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had to say something. Not his usual playful banter or sexual innuendos, not some teasing words or a little quip. He felt like there were a lot of unsaid things between them, and Style needed to let it out.
"You know," Style started softly, his tone musing. "It feels so weird every time I'm with you."
Fadel hummed, blinking. "How so?"
"Sometimes you make me feel so... scared." Style thought back to their first time, how Fadel's roughness—though, Style was absolutely asking for it—had been a little frightening so to speak, but still most definitely hot. He remembered how little he knew of Fadel back then, and how he only seduced the man because Kant had asked him to. "And sometimes you make me feel so safe."
His words were the truth. It felt weird, like a strange mix of emotions, to go from feeling so frightened and out of place with this stoic, serious, handsome hitman to feeling like he was being protected and loved. Fadel had a way about him. A dangerous and dark aura, but also something softer, gentler. Like a giant wolf dog, he could easily snap and kill, but he could just as easily be tamed with the right amount of love and care.
"It wouldn't hurt to be wary of me," Fadel murmured, his gaze sliding from Style's eyes and trailing down, looking over his naked torso. It was a good look. He looked as if he were in a trance. "Like I said earlier, no one can truly lay themselves bare for someone. The real me might be scarier than you think."
A little ironic that Fadel said that when his body looked so bare, so open to Style. Like his body was saying, 'here, take it'.
He remembered their little conversation during their double date earlier that day:
"A guy like me doesn't go trusting someone a hundred percent."
"Not even me?"
"You're at eighty-percent at best."
Fadel was right to not full-on trust Style. It hurt, though, knowing that was the truth. Style desperately wanted to say 'hey, I know you're a hitman, and yeah that's kinda scary, but I still really like you', but that just wasn't in the cards for him right now.
"Will you lay yourself bare for me?" he blurted out instead.
Fadel furrowed his brows, and Style wondered briefly if that was the wrong thing to say. So he continued.
"I promise that no matter who you are, I'll still like you."
Again, the truth was spilling from Style's lips like water. It was strange how he felt the sudden urge to tell Fadel this, but the way Fadel was acting was making Style's brain all messed up. It was making his stomach churn. It felt weird. It felt strange. It was like a fire was lit inside his chest. It wasn't unpleasant. It was... nice. Warm. Soft. He didn't want it to go away.
"Words are cheap," was what Fadel said in reply, his tone guarded. "I'll do that when you're ready." Style's heart hammered in his chest at those words.
Staring into Fadel's eyes, there was a little flutter in his belly, a small feeling of... something indescribable. Something that wasn't just arousal. Something more. Something deeper. "One day, I'll be your one-hundred percent," Style promised, referring back to their earlier conversation.
Afterall, Style was still trying to get him and his brother locked up, wasn't he? Well, Kant was, but Style? Style wasn't. At least not anymore.
"One day," Fadel said slowly, his eyes boring into Style's own. It was as if he were staring into Style's very soul. He wasn't saying it with a lot of conviction. More like a statement than anything.
Style couldn't take the tension anymore. He leaned down, capturing Fadel's lips with his own. One of Fadel's hands found purchase on Style's neck, bringing him in closer. His lips were soft and pliant, and Style's head swam happily.
Their kiss was languid, slow and unhurried, and it left Style breathless when he pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting them for a moment before breaking off. He stared at Fadel's wet and shiny lips, feeling the arousal spike low in his gut. He removed one hand from off of the bed, bringing it up to Fadel's chest where he bunched up the jersey in his fist, right above the man's racing heart. The heart he wanted to win over.
Fuck.
Unhurriedly, he brought his lips down to Fadel's heaving chest, where he left a trail of wet, open mouth kisses as his hands slid down Fadel's body. He mouthed down, and he could hear a tiny, sharp intake of breath above him, could feel Fadel's hand move from his neck to his hair where it tugged gently, encouragingly.
"Style," Fadel breathed, and oh, did his name on Fadel's lips send his heart soaring, his desire burning through him like an inferno.
He kissed and licked down the defined muscles of Fadel's torso, feeling them twitch under his ministrations, and when his tongue slid across a pert nipple he heard a low groan that had Style whimpering in return. He loved how Fadel's body was responding to him. He wanted Fadel to come apart for him. He wanted Fadel to fall to pieces and trust that Style would pick them back up again and piece him back together. Fadel's grasp on his hair faltered until he was letting go and gently fisting the sheets. Style held back a mournful sigh.
Lust shot through him so quickly he became dizzy from it, but he didn't hurry, oh, no— he wanted to take his time and savor the sexy man beneath him.
He loved the way the muscles of Fadel's abdomen flexed and twitched, could feel his abs under the pads of his fingertips once he removed his grip from Fadel's shirt, opting to instead run his hands across Fadel's alluring body. It felt like he was on top of the world, but also as if he were about to melt from a single look alone from the man. So, he didn't dare look up from the soft, warm skin of Fadel's chest. Instead, he trailed the kisses downwards, towards the edge of Fadel's pants, where he teasingly nipped at a hipbone as he dragged his pants down as far as he could without first unzipping them.
"You're wearing too many clothes," he muttered, finally just unzipping the pants and tugging them off, tossing them off somewhere in his room, where he didn't know or care where it landed. His underwear went next, and Style tossed those to the side, too.
Fadel's erection stood at attention, tall, thick and proud, and Style was already drooling at the sight. Fuck, it was a pretty cock. It was a goddamn gorgeous, beautiful cock. And it was all his. Only he got to touch it. Only he got to see it in its naked glory. Just him, only him. Shit, he'd fight someone who dared try and look at it.
Shaking his head, ridding himself of his ridiculous and jealous thoughts, he leaned forward, taking Fadel into his mouth. His lips wrapped around the tip, and then he sucked.
Fadel made the most glorious noise Style had ever heard come from the man's throat. It was guttural and sexy. It had him groaning in response, his eyes fluttering shut as he slid down further. He couldn't wait until the man was fucking his throat. But he wasn't about to do that now. No, that wasn't in the books for today's activities. He wanted to take Fadel apart, piece by piece, bit by bit, and that wasn't something that was going to happen by Style choking himself on the man's cock.
Well... maybe he'd do it once, just for funsies. Then he'd take it nice and slow.
With a deep, steadying breath through his nose, he relaxed his throat and sank down, down, down, until his lips met the soft skin of Fadel's pelvis, where he swallowed once, then twice, before slowly pulling off, the thick head popping free from his lips, connected only by a long line of spit and precome. It broke off when Style wiped at his mouth with a hand.
Style nearly jolted, finding Fadel's eyes on him already once he had glanced up. His eyes were half-lidded, his face soft, his cheeks flushed, and he was breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell at a quick pace. He looked dazed and fucked out, and he was only just getting started. It sent Style's mind spiraling, the lust making him so dizzy and his cock hardening painfully.
Licking his lips, he looked back down to Fadel's dick, and with his free hand he grasped it in a loose fist, teasingly jerking him off. The sound Fadel let out was soft and breathy, and he let his head fall back against the pillows with a soft rustling sound. He shifted his legs open wider, giving Style more space, but his hands remained fisted into the sheets, as if he were afraid to touch.
Oh, that was cute. Style would gladly let Fadel grab his hair and roughly fuck into his mouth. The thought alone had Style's mouth watering.
With a happy hum, Style continued loosely jerking Fadel, while he leaned down to leave little kisses against his pelvis, and then he moved upwards just a bit so he could leave a singular soft kiss to the tattoo on his hip. Fadel's cock twitched in his hand. Smirking, Style kissed it again, this time opening his mouth to leave a small lick against the skin, and then he sucked. He wanted to leave a hickey. Mark Fadel as his.
Fadel's breath stuttered, and he was shifting again, but this time Style didn't look. He focused his attention onto leaving his mark, his mouth attached and suckling at the soft, warm skin.
Style greedily worshipped the spot, tightening his hand just a bit. He panted wetly against Fadel's skin, feeling a great urge to hump the bed like an animal in heat, but he resisted the urge. It was difficult to ignore the aching in his dick. He wished Fadel would reach out and touch him already.
Once Style was satisfied that he'd marked the man well enough, he pulled his lips away and examined the hickey, pleased. It was a bright and beautiful, shining red. His gaze then traveled upwards, where he saw Fadel's face turned away, eyes closed. His expression was blissful and relaxed, and it made Style's heart jump up happily into his throat.
Moving back down, Style moved a hand to Fadel's hips and took his cock into his mouth once more, moaning lowly, and the noise sent a shiver through Fadel, if his body shaking was any indication. Fadel's hips twitched, and Style swallowed thickly in response, his eyes closing delicately.
A jolt went through Style at the feeling of Fadel's hand suddenly in his hair again, and he keened, high and desperate around the cock in his mouth, letting Fadel control his movements just for a moment.
He let Fadel thrust shallowly into his throat once, and the sound that came from him was beautiful. It was barely a groan, but it was sexy nonetheless and had goosebumps rising along Style's exposed torso.
His mind went deliciously fuzzy as Fadel gently pushed him further down, holding him there. The way he could feel the head of Fadel's cock against the back of his throat had him salivating and struggling not to choke and swallow, his tongue laving at the shaft. Fadel let him stay like that for a moment, his fingers carding gently through Style's hair. It was completely hot, and if Style didn't have a mouthful of dick, he'd definitely be dirty talking the man's ear off.
Style didn't want to choke—a lot—tonight, so he tapped a hand to Fadel's hip, indicating his want for a moment to breathe. Fadel immediately released his hold, his fingers still tangled in his hair as he slid off the cock with a loud pop, a string of drool and precome dripping from his bottom lip, and he took a deep, shaky breath, swallowing thickly as he panted, looking up half-lidded towards Fadel, licking a bit of drool and precome away from his lips.
It was so hot in the room. Style was sweating. Or maybe it wasn't sweat. He didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. His cock was hard and aching in his pants—the wet spot on his briefs becoming larger by the minute—but he wasn't ready to pull them off just yet. He was enjoying Fadel coming apart from his mouth way too much to let it stop now.
Fadel's eyes followed his tongue, his mouth opening slightly. It was a hot sight. Fadel was breathing heavier now. Style loved the way the rise and fall of his chest was more prominent now, could see how his hips twitched up slightly like he couldn't control his want to thrust up into Style's inviting, warm, and wet mouth. His dick was leaking so much, the precome drooling down the shaft enticingly.
"You can fuck my mouth, if you want," Style offered softly, hoarsely as he went back down, his tongue darting out to lick across the wet head, causing it to twitch and for Fadel to grunt. "I won't complain. Actually," Style breathed a laugh. "I might maybe even beg a little."
"Fuck," Fadel breathed.
That's what Style was talking about. Come on, Fadel, get his mouth nice and dirty.
Style took him into his mouth, this time sucking gently as he went further, further, further. Fadel's hips moved just barely, a slight twitch upwards. Style hummed in encouragement.
"Fuck," Fadel said again. His tone was breathier. Sexier.
The noise that came from Style was desperate. His hands found Fadel's thighs and squeezed. The man understood, his hips rising and thrusting gently into the warm, tight confines of Style's mouth.
Style moaned as he slid his mouth down the cock, the thick shaft sliding deeper into his mouth with each little thrust from Fadel. It felt so damn good, to have the cock slide against his tongue. It was like heaven on earth, the way Fadel was twitching his hips up, his breath coming in heavier pants, his grip tightening its hold on his hair.
Fadel unfortunately didn't ravage his mouth like an animal, instead he thrusted shallow and almost meekly, but Style would take what he could get.
He couldn't stop thinking about how sexy this all was. The way Fadel's breath was getting ragged, how his hips moved gently. The way he didn't force himself in deeper, just kept up his pace. The way his body shivered. It was all so sexy. And considerate. But mostly sexy.
Style could tell Fadel was getting closer, because the man was thrusting in a little quicker, his hips losing their rhythm, his breathing coming out more like soft, grunting pants.
With a final quiet noise, Fadel's hips stilled for just a moment as his orgasm hit him, then he was unconsciously rolling his hips upwards in slow, sensual motions as he came down Style's throat, his breathing slowing to a more manageable pace.
Style was in heaven, his cheeks dusted in a healthy pink glow and he swallowed what Fadel gave him greedily. His own dick twitched and pulsed with the need for attention, but the thought of having to unzip and unbutton his pants just seemed too tedious and annoying for Style to want to deal with at the moment. He pulled off Fadel, breathing heavily and more than a little ragged.
Fuck, he felt like a wreck.
The hand on his head flexed, but didn't move away, and it didn't take much coercing to bring Style's attention to the cock in front of him again, where he licked the underside, and then lapped at the head, cleaning him.
Once he pulled back, the grip in his hair tightened. "Come here."
His voice was rough. Dripping with sex.
He allowed Fadel to drag him up to his level, and the moment he was there Fadel kissed him, slow, filthy and sluggish, although it was more tongue than anything else. And fuck, if the idea of Fadel tasting himself in his mouth wasn't hot, then he didn't know what was. The way their tongues slid against each other was a sensual dance, their mouths a mess of saliva. When Style pulled away, they were breathing the same air, panting into each other's mouth.
"Shit," Style breathed hoarsely. "You are so sexy."
A little smile slid its way onto Fadel's mouth, but he didn't say anything, and the sight of it had Style's heart doing a flip. It wasn't even that big of a grin, just a little twitch in the corner, but it had Style feeling giddy and he wanted to make Fadel do it more often.
Without warning, Fadel moved his hands, grasping into Style's arms and flipping their positions, and suddenly Style's back was on the bed and he was looking up at a predatory Fadel. His face was back to the stoic mask, his eyes half-lidded and darkened, and his hair fell across them like a curtain.
And, well, Style's mind went blank, his heart stuttering to a stop in his chest before picking back up and galloping away. Damn, Fadel, you've really gotta warn a guy before you're on him. Style felt dizzy, in a good way.
"Hi," was his breathy, meek response said in English, which was as eloquent and smooth as he usually was. He felt a little speechless, only because the air in the room was a little different than their other times together. Maybe it was because he was still ecstatic over the fact they were finally going to have sex in a real bed this time, or maybe it was because something between them felt different, but Style couldn't put his finger on it, so he didn't think about it.
"Hello," was Fadel's quiet reply, and fuck, was that voice of his so sexy. It made Style want to beg.
"Your voice sounds hot," he commented without much thought, grinning up at Fadel. The man raised an eyebrow, a corner of his lip quirking, but his face remained mostly expressionless, and it was starting to drive Style nuts. "I really want to kiss you again."
"I want to do more than just kiss you."
Well, Style was dead. He was dead and gone. RIP him. It was all over for him. The sexy man named Fadel has unintentionally killed him with his blunt and monotonous dirty talk.
"Oh? Like?" he prompted, more than intrigued, and he leaned upwards with his elbows against the bed, bringing him just a tad closer to Fadel's face. "Will you do dirty things to me?"
Fadel's expression didn't change, which had Style wanting to kiss him. "Depends on what you mean by 'dirty'."
"Like..." Style thought for a moment, humming as he pretended to think of an answer, though his mind was already flashing through different scenarios that had his cock twitching. Ouch, he needed these pants off, like, yesterday. "Spank me?"
Fadel just stared, and then his gaze wandered, sliding from Style's face to his chest and lower. "Maybe."
Oh, he liked that. "Hm. How about you tie me up?" His voice got lower, softer. More sultry. He leaned closer. "Tie my wrists together. Make me take it. Cum inside me. Or all over my chest. Even when I'm begging for you to stop, keep going." Fadel's gaze was back on his own. It made Style's skin heat up. He loved being the center of attention. He licked his lips slowly, deliberately. "Or maybe," he paused for dramatic effect, grinning, "I could ride you? That's my personal favorite."
He expected Fadel to look annoyed or exasperated. To tell him to stop joking and to stop talking. To kiss him until his lips were numb. But Fadel didn't. His eyes only darkened further, and then suddenly Style found himself pushed backwards, his back flat against the mattress, his lips taken in a hard, rough kiss. He mewled happily into it, his mouth opening to let Fadel lick inside. Their tongues danced together, their lips sliding together perfectly.
Style couldn't get enough of it. He'd never get enough of it, of him.
When the kiss broke, Fadel leaned his forehead against Style's, his breathing harsh and labored, and Style was panting right alongside him. He was sweating, and he wanted desperately for the clothes to come off.
"Gonna help me take my pants off?" Style slurred, feeling like he could burst any minute now. The bulge was pressing painfully against his pants and it wasn't fun. The pants had to come off now. If Fadel was just gonna sit on him like a log, he'd do it himself, but it would be so much hotter and sexier if Fadel helped him. "Or would you like to watch me struggle to do it myself?"
The moment Fadel was leaning down, kissing his throat, was the moment he knew the answer to his question. Fadel didn't want to help. Oh well. That was fine, he'd do it himself. He wanted his skin on display for the sexy beast that was Fadel, and if Fadel wasn't going to help him out then Style would gladly do it for him.
It was a little awkward with Fadel caging him in and all, but he managed to unbutton his pants and tug them down. Of course, Fadel took it upon himself to make things harder for him by licking a stripe across Style's throat. He groaned, his arms going slack as he panted. His body felt hot, his skin too small.
"O-oh," Style whispered breathlessly, swallowing. Fadel was moving, licking at a different spot on his throat and giving it little kisses and nips, just like Style had done to him earlier.
"You taste good," Fadel mumbled, and then Style was in heaven. His eyes slid shut as he tilted his head to give the man better access. The mouth against his throat felt divine. His hands went slack for a moment, and it seemed Fadel was taking pity on him because he was pulling Style's hands back up and pressing them into the bed. He wasn't gripping his wrists and holding him down like Style would have preferred, but it still sent shockwaves through his body nonetheless.
"Keep them here," Fadel murmured before his own hands went down to Style's pants and began taking them off for him. Style didn't even notice what was going on until his pants were pulled off his ankles and tossed to the floor. Oh, wow, thank you for doing his job for him, Fadel, you beautiful man you. His underwear came next, and Style couldn't even bring himself to try and dirty talk some more, because his mind was swimming with pleasure.
He felt fuzzy and light. The way Fadel's mouth trailed downwards, leaving little kisses and bites along his skin was so intimate and soft. The way his tongue slid across Style's heated flesh made his head spin. His heart was doing flip flops in his chest. The sensations were overwhelming.
Fadel was making him lose his mind, and hey, wasn't it a little unfair Fadel had come himself? They should keep it equal, you know, give them both a chance.
Style had an idea.
"Y'know," he breathed, swallowing thickly, his arms feeling a bit numb from holding them up in the new position, his wrists pressed together like a naughty prisoner of the night, waiting to be tied down to a chair and interrogated, or even handcuffed, waiting to be thrown in jail. He'd be a bad prisoner, but a very, very good boy for the night guard. "You've already come."
"Your point?" Style felt Fadel smirk against his hip. It sent a thrill up his spine. His dick twitched in anticipation, but he wasn't going to get any satisfaction, was he? He wanted some, and he wanted it badly.
Style pouted. "Well, I think it's only fair I get to come, too. Don't you?"
"Are you telling me," Fadel purred between kisses to his pelvis. He could feel Fadel breathing against his dick. It was a tease. "Or asking?"
Oh. Oh. Well. "Both," Style said, because that's exactly what he was doing, he was telling and asking and begging Fadel to let him come, to give him that sweet release and take his cock into his mouth and give him that relief.
But Fadel just hummed. "And what if I deny you?"
Damn.
Fuck. Fadel didn't know the game he was playing right now, and it made his cock throb. He could feel precome leaking from the tip. He could feel it sliding down his shaft, a long, wet, sticky line. He was tempted to move his hands, to touch himself and rub one out right there in front of the sexy hitman between his legs. He wanted Fadel to watch him.
And, well, he did just that.
"I'd just do it myself then," he breathed, hand already moving, sliding down his abdomen towards his throbbing, weeping cock. He was stopped when Fadel grabbed his wrist, and fuck, if that didn't just turn Style on even further, because he was a kinky whore for this shit.
Fadel was looking up at him now, his gaze dark, dangerous, and his expression blank. His eyes looked even more beautiful than ever. "I don't recall saying you could move."
And oh, that was it. That was the final push that had Style's brain going fuzzy and warm. Oh, how nice. How very nice. Fadel was really gonna do him like that. "I'm a naughty boy; I don't ask for permission."
There was a moment, a single second where Style thought Fadel was gonna give in. Where he would let him touch himself and come right there, on his stomach, his chest, all over the sheets—maybe even on Fadel's face—but the moment was broken, and Style's hope shattered as Fadel let go of his hand.
"Move them again and you're not coming at all."
That had the opposite effect of what Fadel had in mind, because Style was already ready to move his hands again, lust shooting through him like an electrical current.
Oh, Fadel, you've done fucked up now, baby.
It seemed like a dare, a challenge, and it made Style want to push the boundaries and test the limits. He was so ready, so eager to be a little shit and disobey. He was Style, after all. He never did what he was told, that was the fun of it, and he never listened to the rules, either, and it seemed Fadel was beginning to catch onto this, because suddenly he was sitting up, grabbing both of Style's hands in one of his own and pressing them into the bed. He was so strong. God, if that didn't just get him all hot and bothered, then nothing ever would.
"Do you act like this to annoy me on purpose," he said, his voice a deep, dark murmur, "or do you do it on instinct?"
"Well, when you say it like that—" he didn't finish, because Fadel kissed him, his tongue sliding inside and claiming Style's breathy little noises for himself.
Style tried to deepen the kiss even further, but Fadel didn't let him. The bastard was taking his sweet time, his tongue sliding tantalizingly along Style's own, and he could feel Fadel's little quirk of his lips into it. Oh, that asshole. That sexy, gorgeous, hot asshole.
The kiss broke, and Fadel was sitting back, staring at Style with an intense look that had his toes curling and his cock twitching. It was a good look. He could look into Fadel's eyes for eternity.
With a swift move, Fadel removed the jersey from his body one handed. Style's mouth went dry at the sight. Fuck, Fadel's muscles were something else, something to behold and praise. They were so defined, and they made Style want to do unspeakable things. Things that were illegal in Thailand, probably, and some that would be considered unholy, as well.
Fadel leaned forward, and he had a leg on either side of Style, caging him in and pressing his back against the bed. "Are you going to listen?" he muttered, and Style was already grinning.
"No," he replied playfully. "You have to make me."
Fadel didn't seem impressed, because he just closed his eyes and sighed. "You're going to be a pain tonight, aren't you?"
"I'm a pain every night, baby."
"Hm," was Fadel's reply, and Style sighed happily when those lips were on him again, this time against his throat. He was going to mark him, Style just knew it, and he was ready and waiting.
And mark him, he did. The feeling of Fadel sucking a hickey onto his throat was divine. His mouth was so warm and soft and wet, and his tongue slid across the skin once, twice. Fadel was marking him in a very obvious spot. Fuck, that made Style nearly come right then and there. Fadel was either doing it there on purpose or by complete accident. Style wanted to believe it was the former. Did he actually like him enough to let others see Style was his?
Oh. Oh. Okay, he needed to calm down, but he couldn't help the happy butterflies that buzzed around in his stomach.
His heart felt so light, his head spinning. His eyes slid shut and his head tilted to give him better access, and his breathing came out in heavier pants.
"Are you gonna leave a lot?" he whispered, his voice cracking slightly, his hands moving towards Fadel's hair where he gripped the strands lightly.
Fadel pulled away with a wet noise, and Style's breath caught. "Maybe." There was another pause, and then his mouth was against his skin again. Style moaned.
"I want a lot," Style muttered softly, swallowing. He wanted Fadel's mouth all over him; anywhere those lips could reach.
"Be good and I might."
And that was that.
The feeling of Fadel's lips against his throat was enough to have Style's head reeling, but then Fadel was pressing his knee against his dick, giving it a little nudge, a small amount of friction. He keened, suddenly remembering just how hard he was and just how unfortunately neglected his cock was.
"Mfhh— F-Fadel—"
Style's fingers tightened their hold on the soft, short hair, his mouth falling open. His breath was coming in harsh pants, his heart beating erratically, and his stomach clenched as his hips twitched, his cock aching and throbbing pathetically.
"You're being loud," Fadel muttered against his throat, his breath ghosting over Style's spit-slicked skin, sending pleasant shivers down his spine.
"Y-you like it," Style shot back breathlessly, moving his hips to try and chase the friction.
Mercifully, Fadel gave Style the friction he craved. But not just any friction. The man slid his hand down and pressed his palm against his aching arousal, making Style nearly shout happily at the sensation of skin on skin. Finally. Some attention. Fuck, heaven knows he needed it.
"P-please," Style choked out between little breathy moans. He had been so aroused for so long he knew he wouldn't last, not with the way Fadel's hand was gently pumping up and down his length, the slide easy and slick from the amount of precome that had covered practically the entirety of his pelvis. "Aa-h, I'm so c-close—" His words broke off into a whiny groan. Fadel didn't say a word in reply, but he was leaving little kisses along Style's neck, his other hand holding onto Style's hip. His mouth trailed upwards, towards Style's ear, where he bit the shell, the action making Style keen happily.
He barely had time to warn Fadel, because he didn't even know he was coming until he was arching his back and letting out a soft, barely decipherable "ah", which broke off halfway. His eyes screwed shut as he let the pleasure crash through him, making his legs tremble and his body shake. He was breathing hard as he rode his orgasm out, Fadel's hand still stroking him gently through it, until he was twitching and oversensitive, his hands pushing at the man to stop. His mind was blank and hazy as he panted, his breathing coming back down to a more normal level as his heart calmed down slowly.
Fuck, Fadel had barely even touched him, yet the orgasm was strong. Was Style that desperate to come that the lightest of touches would set him off like fireworks? Well, it wasn't his fault Fadel was hot as shit, with a sexy mouth and voice. And his hair was so pretty. Fuck, Style just wanted to stare into the man's eyes and get lost.
"That was quick," was what Fadel said as he leaned away, wiping the cum off his hand and onto the bedsheets. Upon hearing Fadel's voice, Style opened his eyes a smidge, which was just in time for it happen. Fadel was lucky Style wasn't disgusted—in fact, the action made his dick twitch with interest, despite having just come not even moments before—because if he were, he'd have Fadel on laundry duty.
Style made a soft noise, his eyes now closed again. He let go of Fadel's hair and allowed his hands to fall limply against the mattress. His mind was foggy, but the fuzziness was starting to fade. "Yea', f-fuck me, n-now," he mumbled, slurring slightly. He didn't care if Fadel didn't prep him, he just wanted that big cock inside him now— fuck— right now. He felt... needy. Desperate, yes, and definitely greedy, but needy was a word that was at the forefront of his thoughts.
He was tired, and the bed was so soft and comfy. And he wanted was for Fadel to fuck him into the mattress so he could pass out blissfully. His cock gave a valiant twitch, as if to tell Style that it wasn't dead and was, indeed, alive and well, just a little worn out.
Blearily, Style opened his eyes and lifted his head a bit, meeting Fadel's gaze. The man was staring down at him, his gaze a dark, dangerous glint. His hair was disheveled from Style's hands, his cheeks flushed a healthy pink, his eyes half-lidded and filled with lust and desire. There was a soft glint of something else he couldn't identify, but then Fadel blinked and the look was taken away, replaced with something akin to amusement.
"You look tired."
"Nah." Style made a 'psh' noise and waved a dismissive hand before using said hand to point towards the shelf next to his bed. "Lube's over there, babe."
He didn't bother mentioning the condoms. He wanted more than anything to feel Fadel coming inside of him again. The other day was just so fucking hot, he had jerked off to the memory more than a few times. He nearly blurted out that little fact to Fadel, but decided against it at the last minute.
He watched Fadel reach over, grab the lube, and open it, but after that he didn't pay attention because his mind was too focused on Fadel. His skin was sweaty, a thin layer that glistened under the light of his dim lamp. He wanted to run his hands along his skin, but refrained from doing so because his arms were too tired, too sluggish, and he didn't feel like putting the effort into the motion.
Fadel's hand began sliding along Style's torso. It trailed from the middle of his abdomen, all the way up to his neck, and Style stilled, eyes a bit wide. Fuck, if Fadel did that again, he'd —
"You gonna choke me?" Style whispered, letting his eyes fall shut after a moment, leaning his head back to bare his throat in what he hoped was an enticing way.
"I wasn't planning on it." Fadel's voice was low and quiet. His hand didn't stay on Style's neck long, and he brought it down to grab the bottle of lube again. The snap of the cap echoed through the room, and it made Style's cock stir. Fuck, he loved that sound. It had his mouth drying up in anticipation.
"I wouldn't complain if you did," Style purred, opening his eyes so he could see Fadel's reaction. There was the slightest twitch of the eyebrow, but that's about it. That was until he noticed the way the corner of his mouth ticked upwards.
"Maybe another time."
Style pouted, definitely more than a little disappointed. He remembered back to that day where Fadel was still freshly his boyfriend—and Style had just found out from Kant that Fadel was a fucking hitman—and how he choked him out during their gym date. He wanted to experience that feeling again, the feeling of his fingers tightening against his throat, and how the lack of oxygen somehow made his orgasm ten times better. But it was alright. He could be patient when he wanted to be. Fadel said 'another time', and he was going to make sure he remembered that and hold the man to his words.
Fadel poured the lube onto his fingers, the sound slick and dirty. Style licked his lips in impatience, and when the cool liquid met the skin of his hole he let out an exaggerated moan, which had Fadel shooting him an unimpressed look. Style only grinned in response, but the smile slipped off his face the moment the finger slid in without much preamble, his back arching.
It wasn't that it hurt, not at all. He was used to this. It was just that the way Fadel was pressing inside of him, the way the finger crooked and already pressed against his prostate had his brain turning to mush. He lifted a leg, bending it, foot planted heavily on the bed, moving his hips to try and get Fadel to hit that lovely spot once more.
He closed his eyes and heard Fadel huff out an amused breath.
He was just so eager to be fucked, and the feeling of that finger was making him want more, need more, crave it like an addict craves a fix. His body was still sensitive, his cock hardening as the seconds passed. "A-another, come on. You know I c-can take it, baby," Style slurred, moaning happily as another was slid inside, the feeling making him groan in bliss.
"Be quiet," Fadel sighed, sounding both exasperated and amused at the same time, a combination Style had come to associate with the sexy man. Fadel was crooking the fingers inside him, scissoring him gently, and Style was already in heaven, his body shuddering.
"Nghh—"
Style's eyebrows were scrunched together now, his hands fisting the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. His cock was throbbing and red. Style was panting, his breaths heavy, and his head spun. Fadel was being slow with his stretching. So, so slow, his fingers pressing against his walls and spreading them gently, his pace unhurried. He wasn't teasing. No, Style knew what his teasing felt like, but that wasn't this. This wasn't teasing. Fadel was being slow because— because...
"O-oh," Style croaked out, the sound a bit garbled, but he didn't care. His head fell back and his back arched. It all clicked in his head, the reason Fadel was taking his time. "Oh, f-fuck— y-you're t-trying to— ah-aah." Style bit his lip, a wave of pleasure crashing over him when the man's fingers rubbed against his prostate. He was trying to drag it out.
Fadel wanted him to come on his fingers.
Oh, oh fuck. Fuck, that was hot.
"Y-you sexy— f-ffuck, ah— hnngg— f-fuck—"
Oh yeah, that definitely riled Style up. Fadel knew the way to his sexually deviant heart.
He had to move, because the pleasure was just too good, his body felt like it was on fire. He shifted, leaning his upper body weight on his elbows, watching with apt fascination as the fingers were worked in and out of him, twisting and spreading. He could hear how slick it was, could imagine how he looked stretched out over them.
His cock was dripping pathetically against his abdomen, the slick sheen of precome glistening under the light of the lamp. It dripped down the hard muscles of his stomach and onto the sheets, creating a sticky, wet mess that was just the right amount of disgusting and filth to have Style keening softly.
Fadel removed his fingers suddenly, which had Style whining at the loss, but he was soon shut up, because he watched with widened eyes as Fadel brought those wet fingers up towards his dick and swiped a finger right next to it through the mess on his skin. He then brought it back down to his entrance, where Style gladly spread his thighs just a little bit more, and, well, he was about to fucking lose it.
Because Fadel was fucking pressing his fingers back in with Style's own precome as a secondary, makeshift lube. Holy fuck. That was— that was so fucking dirty and sexy. Style felt dizzy, like he was floating, and his head definitely was swimming. He felt drunk, drunk on lust and pleasure, drunk on Fadel and his everything. He wanted Fadel inside him, fucking him, making him scream.
"Ah-hahh—" he choked out when the fingers moved just slightly faster, through the pace was still languid and smooth. His moans grew more obscene by the minute as he grew more desperate and more turned on, more and more aroused until he couldn't think straight, until all he could focus on was the way the fingers pressed and spread and fucked inside him. His mouth was hanging open and his eyebrows scrunched up as his head tilted back, a particularly high moan escaping him when the fingers pressed right up against his prostate and held them there, rubbing.
"F-fa-adeeel, oh—"
He was coming, and the release was so soft and so slow, it had Style blacking out for just a second while his brain tried catching up. It felt like a wave of molten lava, burning and searing, and it was everything Style needed. It felt so good. He felt his muscles spasm, the cum painting his abdomen so prettily, and then Fadel's fingers were out and his head was between his legs.
Style forced his head down, blinking lethargically through his tears, and watched, half-delirious, as Fadel leaned down, lapping up some of the cum from his abdomen.
Holy fucking shit.
Fuck. He was dead. So, so fucking dead. Might as well be in a grave. RIP Style, cause he's gone. Deceased, no longer alive, because of his gorgeous boyfriend and his sinful, filthy tongue.
The tongue was hot and wet, similar to the cum that ran down his body, and it lapped at his stomach like it was a dog lapping up water after being denied a drink. Fadel didn't seem to mind the taste or texture of cum. In fact, it looked as though he was enjoying it, his eyes half lidded and glazed over, like he was in a daze. Oh, Style knew the man was kinky, but damn.
"Shit, Fadel— that's so— mmn, s'hot—" Style was already reaching for him, threading his fingers through Fadel's silky strands, having a sudden urge to press his face down and smother him in his stomach, his cum. He didn't do it, of course, because that was a bit mean, but that didn't mean he didn't want to. And oh, how he wanted to.
Fadel licked broad stripes up his abdomen, and when he lifted his head to meet his gaze, Style felt a spike of lust shoot through him. It was intense, and his had his stomach clenching with newfound arousal.
He was in a different world. His head was still spinning from his orgasm. When Fadel pulled away, the sight had his heart beating wildly in his chest and his head fuzzy. Fadel's cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark, and his lips were slick. His tongue slid out, licking his bottom lip and then biting it, more than likely unconsciously.
Fuck. Fadel was so fucking sexy.
"C'mere," Style panted out, holding up a weak and jelly-like arm, beckoning the man forward. Fadel complied and moved, crawling up and over Style, and once he was within reaching distance, Style was pulling him in and pressing his lips against the man's.
It wasn't slow or sweet like their kisses earlier; this was filthy and full of tongue. Style licked into Fadel's mouth, chasing remnants of his own cum on the other's tongue. He moaned, high-pitched and breathy into the kiss, their tongues sliding against each other's wetly. Style's arms wrapped around Fadel's neck to bring him closer, so they were pressed chest-to-chest, and it was hot, their skin slick from sweat, and it should be at the very least uncomfortable, but Style was too focused on the mouth against his own to notice or care.
He then felt Fadel's hands grip his thighs and pull him close, his back sliding across the sheets as his body was forcefully moved. Oh, now that made his dick stir again. Fuck, Fadel had to stop doing sexy shit like that, or Fadel wouldn't ever be able to leave the bed.
The kiss broke with a wet noise and Style panted, feeling breathless. There was a thick line of spit connecting their mouths that Style happily licked away. "Y-you, mhf— you gonna fuck me or w-what?" he slurred, eyes half-lidded as he took in the sight of Fadel. His face was still flushed, his lips red and swollen. He looked good. Really good.
"I am." The reply was quiet and soft, a stark contrast to their passionate kissing. His hands moved, and then Style was being maneuvered—manhandled? Manhandled—to stay on his back, but with his legs spread open obscenely wide. One of Fadel's arms wrapped around the back of one of his knees, holding him securely, and then Fadel's free hand was on himself, and Style let out a soft, unbidden whimper at the sight.
He looked so fucking good, holding his dick and lining himself up. He wanted to beg, wanted to say something snarky or bratty, wanted to rile Fadel up, but he couldn't get his mouth to move; he could only stare with a dry mouth and a rapidly beating heart.
Then Fadel was pushing inside of him slowly, so fucking slowly, the feeling making Style throw his head back and moan loudly, his voice breaking halfway.
"Ah— F-Fadel."
He felt like a doll with how Fadel held his legs apart, but it was a nice feeling. He loved it. Fadel was making him feel like a pretty little fucktoy, and Style wanted to live in the moment forever, because Fadel was stretching him wide, splitting him open, and it was glorious.
Fadel didn't give him time to adjust, and he didn't want him to, because the man was moving, thrusting into him in slow, shallow, languid motions that had Style seeing stars. His arms wrapped around the back of Fadel's neck and he dragged him closer, hugging him tight as his body rocked to the pace Fadel was setting, the sounds leaving him were soft, breathy little noises that bubbled up with each little thrust.
"F-fu-uck—"
Style was panting wetly into the space between them, their lips brushing together every so often, but neither moved in to connect their lips, as they were more preoccupied with watching each other's faces as Fadel fucked into him slowly, sweetly. As much as he wanted Fadel to pound in to him like there was no tomorrow, he was confusingly infatuated with the slower pace.
It wasn't a pace Fadel would set normally. Style's dick was aching where it was pressed snugly against his and Fadel's abdomens, creating a delicious friction with each roll of Fadel's hips. It was delicious torture, and Style whined, wriggling where he lay. Fadel's cock wasn't sliding out all the way; it was more like a rocking, grinding motion, his cock moving shallowly inside Style's hole.
Style felt tears prickle in his eyes, but he blinked them away. Weirdly, he was desperate but also content. The way Fadel was handling him and how intense their gaze was on one another made Style's stomach flutter with a million butterflies, and his head was swimming in a thick, hazy fog that he never wanted to escape.
Fadel's eyes were still that provocative in that half-lidded way, and his cheeks were dusted a slightly darker pink. It was a pretty look. His mouth was hanging open just slightly, his breathing labored. Style wanted to lean up and bite that mouth, to lick into it and make him taste the desperation on his tongue, but he held himself back. He couldn't look away.
He wanted to beg for Fadel to fuck him harder. To pound him like a bitch in heat and to make him cry and scream, but the moment was just too... good to break. He felt so full. Full and stretched, and his hole fluttered with each little thrust. His breathing hitched, and he dug his fingers into Fadel's shoulders.
Fadel paused for a second, his breath stuttering on a soft groan, and Style whimpered when he pressed their sweaty foreheads together. He felt dizzy. So fucking dizzy, but he didn't dare close his eyes or look away. His gaze was trapped in the lusty one of Fadel's, the man's eyes boring holes into him with the way he was staring, watching his every facial expression.
"I-I... aahh— Fadel—" His words cut off in a high whine as his eyes squeezed shut, and his back arched when Fadel thrust just right, and his already abused prostate was barely grazed. Fuck. He needed to come again.
A litany of soft, high-pitched whines and little, breathy moans escaped him, his eyebrows furrowing as sparks of pleasure danced along his spine. Fadel's hips moved, picking up just the littlest amount of speed, but the thrusts were still so deep, so slow and precise. "Fa-adel, h-hnn... mmh—" Style felt so full. Every single time Fadel bottomed out he felt so full he could burst at the seams.
Style opened his eyes, just so he could try and watch the small emotions pass over Fadel's sexy face, but felt himself go cross eyed on a particularly hard thrust, his head pressing back against the mattress. "Aah— hahh—" His breathing was more like a desperate panting now. He couldn't get enough air, and his head felt light and fuzzy.
He wanted to feel Fadel come, but the pace wasn't enough for the man to be able to. It was a pace set to keep him on the edge, a pace to keep him aroused and hard but not enough to tip him over. It only made Style's arousal spike higher and more vicious with the realization. He bit his lip, a choked moan slipping past anyway, and then Fadel was leaning his head down, nosing along the side of his face, until his lips pressed against his ear, his breathing heavy.
"Are you close?"
Was he?
Yes. Fuck, yes. For awhile now, actually.
"Yes," he croaked. "F-feel— full—" He swallowed thickly, his throat clicking and he moaned despondently again when Fadel slowed his movements even more until it wasn't anything other than a languid roll of his hips. It was a tease. He was being teased, and Style loved it.
Style panted, squeezing down on Fadel, earning him a lovely little noise from the other, the noise breathless and downright sinful. Style had no energy to grin, though. He wanted to, but he couldn't, he could only whimper.
"You're being so patient," Fadel muttered, his lips sliding against the shell of his ear. "But just enjoy it. Stop trying to hurry me along."
"I-I am— a-ah— enjoying i-it oh—" Style whimpered again. He could feel his dick dripping against his stomach. It was sticky, the feeling wet and delicious. "P-please..."
Fadel's lips were still against the shell of his ear. It tickled. "Do you need to come, baby?" Fadel asked.
Baby. He had said the pet name back, oh god—
"Fuuuck—" Style whined, high and airy, losing his grip on Fadel's shoulders as his and Fadel's skin became more slick. He grappled on for dear life. He wanted to come, but he also didn't want this moment to ever end. It was a vicious cycle that was going through his mind, and it was a constant battle that plagued him.
The thrusts were starting to pick up just the littlest bit, the rhythm still sensual but slightly more eager, and Fadel's hand, which was once gripping his knee, was now sliding down towards his inner thigh, until it rested right between his legs. Style was barely paying attention to it, until he felt a finger circle his hole, where Fadel was lazily thrusting into.
Oh, yes.
His cock gave a twitch, a spurt of precome leaking from the slit, trailing down tantalizingly over his already-slick length. "H-hahh, hha— Fadel—" he choked out wantonly. "I-I'm— ah, I'm c-cl-lose— oh—" He wanted to tell Fadel that it wouldn't take long if he pressed that finger inside him, but his mind was too foggy, his mouth unable to form any more words.
It seemed as if he didn't need to tell him anyway, because then Fadel was pulling away from his ear, and Style was immediately met with his intense gaze again, his eyes a dark, deep color, though he looked absolutely wrecked. Style let his eyes wander from Fadel's lovely pink-dusted cheeks and lidded eyes and his sexy parted lips down his god-like, glistening body. He shivered. Oh, there was that lovely tight feeling; it blossomed slowly and lethargically in his gut, burning him from the inside out.
"Close?" Fadel breathed out, and all Style could do was nod frantically, unable to speak as Fadel continued to thrust in and out of him slowly. His chest heaved, nearly touching Fadel's own chest as the man leaned in further, until they were only a few inches away.
Fadel's finger circled his rim teasingly, feather-light, and before Style could start begging, the touch was taken away and Fadel stopped completely, making Style nearly start to cry. "No," he sobbed, gripping at the other's shoulders desperately. He felt his eyes begin to water and he sniffled, a pout on his lips. He was so, so close. So close. So close. "Please, p-plea— please, I w-was so cl—close—" His words broke off in a pathetic moan. He felt his eyes roll back as Fadel started to move again. Not the same thrusting motion from earlier, no. This was a slow, dirty grind.
"Style—" Fadel hummed, the tone airy and blissed out. It was a lovely sound. It sent shivers up and down his spine and made his heart pound excitedly against his rib cage. Oh, that was the most gorgeous noise Style had ever heard in his entire life. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest.
"Fadel," he panted back, eyes fluttering. "F-fuck—"
It felt so good. Too good. He felt so sensitive, his skin prickling with heat as Fadel continued the motion, rolling his hips provocatively. His forgotten cock lay drooling pathetically against his abdomen, which rubbed up against Fadel's body every now again when he would thrust just a little bit harder. Other than that, Fadel held his body far enough away so he was able to look down at where their bodies connected. It was obscene, the sight, and it had a new wave of arousal washing over Style.
Fuck, he was wet. His cum had smeared as far as his thighs and up to his ribs, and, well, if you know Style, then you'd already know just how much he loved being filthy, especially when it involved his or Fadel's cum. He wanted to share the sticky mess with Fadel, because he was certain Fadel would be ecstatic to get on Style's level of debauchery.
And based on the fact Fadel willingly licked cum off of his belly earlier, Style was confident the man was well on his way there.
With that, Style released a hand from its grip on Fadel's sweaty shoulder and brought it down, trailing it down his abdomen and pressing his palm against the tacky cum that hadn't fully dried to his skin. It was warm and slick, and it made his mouth water. With a mischievous little smile beginning to spread across his face, Style brought his cum-slick hand up to Fadel's cheek, who was now staring down at him with an unreadable gaze. He smeared it over the man's flushed skin, from his cheek down to his neck and to his jaw, and he was certain his own eyes were wide and dark, the arousal in his belly twisting sharply at the sight of his gorgeous boyfriend.
"O-oh, you're f-fucking, ahahh— s-sexy," Style drawled out as best as he could, breathless as his fingers traced the outline of the other's lips. They were parted, his bottom lip shiny with spit and flushed a pretty pink. They were slick and Style couldn't wait any longer. With his thumb, he pulled the lower lip down just slightly, and pressed the tip of his finger against the man's front teeth.
The action caught his attention immediately, and he looked into Style's eyes. Style grinned despite feeling like he was going to fall apart any second now. Fadel's eyes were glazed over, darkened, and his eyebrows were drawn in the center. That lovely little signature look, that sexy little furrow of his brows, and it made his stomach clench and a spike of desire course through him. Fuck, Fadel was so hot.
"What're you trying to do?" the man murmured, but he didn't pull away, didn't even stop the gentle, rhythmic rocking motion of his hips, and it had Style's mind in an absolute tizzy.
Style felt a little bit delirious. He licked his own lips before pressing the tip of his finger inside Fadel's hot, wet mouth. He slid it over his bottom teeth, his lip, until it rested against his tongue.
"Be a g-good boy and— nghh— lick it o-off, will ya?" he teased. "You were so eager t-to do so before. What's w-with the hesitation, mmh? Ah-hh— d-don't tell me," Style moaned softly when Fadel shifted his hips just right. "Mmh— t-that you're shy?"
There was a beat, a moment of silence between the two of them, the air heavy. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Style let his finger move out of Fadel's mouth to rest gently against his lips, teasingly smearing his palm against Fadel's chin. His eyebrow twitched, and Style was giddy.
"I'll show you shy," Fadel muttered, and Style didn't have time to react, because suddenly the man's mouth was on him, their tongues sliding against one another in a filthy and wet kiss. It was more teeth than it was tongue, a fight for dominance that neither would give in to, and Style's chest was heaving when Fadel finally pulled away, licking the excess saliva away with a lewd noise that had Style reeling. His hand had flopped uselessly back onto Fadel's shoulder, which made a little smack sound.
He licked his lips, chasing the taste, shivering in pure pleasure. Every part of his body felt highly sensitive, like it was a live wire of electricity, a bundle of pleasure receptors just waiting to explode, but Fadel still wasn't fucking him hard enough.
His lustful and forlorn thoughts were interrupted by Fadel grabbing his wrist in harsh grip, bringing the hand away from his shoulder and towards his face, and through Style's foggy mind he realized it was his sticky cum-covered palm, the substance cool on his skin now, though still wet.
Without breaking eye contact, Fadel licked Style's hand from the palm all the way to his fingers, his eyes dark and half lidded. Style watched in awe.
Oh, wow. That was fucking hot.
Fadel didn't waste time in leaning forward and practically shoving his cum-coated tongue down Style's throat. It was a lewd kiss, sloppy and uncoordinated and wet, the sound echoing in the air. Style was trying to keep up, but the way his head was swimming and how slick their mouths slid against each other was too much. It was overwhelming. But it was exactly what he wanted.
"Aa-ah, f-fuck, Fadel—"
Style's moan was needy and lewd once Fadel pulled away so they could breathe, his words tapering off into a low whine. 'I'm so close, just fuck me like you mean it', was what he really wanted to say, but all that came out of his mouth was an unintelligible jumble of sounds, the only decipherable word being 'close'.
"Fuck—" was all Style heard from Fadel before he was being pushed into the bed roughly, and then he was being fucked in earnest, the man thrusting deep inside him, the sound wet and loud and positivity obscene. "Fuck."
The sudden change in pace made him keen loudly. His leg was numb from holding it bent for so long, the feeling of pins and needles long gone by now, and instead of the soft and sensual whatever—love-making?—they had been doing before, Fadel was now properly fucking him, their sweaty bodies sliding against one another, their breathing coming out in short, heavy and wet pants.
It was what he had wanted since they began this, but Style couldn't think of that now because his head was swirling with desire and Fadel. His mind felt terribly hazy as his prostate was thoroughly abused with the rough, deep pace. Fadel was gripping his waist hard enough to bruise, and he couldn't stop himself from moaning, high and drawn-out.
It didn't take him long to reach his climax, not at all, especially when it had been building since they started. The tight coil of arousal in his belly snapped, and Style was arching off the mattress and digging his fingernails into Fadel's skin hard enough to make him bleed before he was coming with a guttural little noise that even Style didn't think he could make.
Fadel dropped his head onto Style's shoulder and chased his own orgasm, and he could tell it wouldn't be long because the thrusts were growing sloppy and erratic, his rhythm stuttering. "C-come inside," Style purred breathily, a little loopy and delirious from his orgasm. It felt so fucking good to feel so sensitive and full, his hole twitching around Fadel's length. He didn't have the strength to move, so he stayed there, boneless, letting Fadel fuck him through his orgasm as the man reached his with a small, breathy noise that Style wanted to hear again and again.
"Style—"
It only took a couple more thrusts until he was pressing inside deep and staying there as he came, which had Style whining softly in the back of his throat.
They stayed like that for a minute or so, Fadel's face buried into the side of his neck, both panting as they came down from their high. They were both sweaty and sticky, but the silence that settled over them was comfortable. Once their breathing evened out and Style regained the feeling in his arms, he lifted a weak hand to run it through Fadel's hair.
Fadel didn't move, and Style wondered if he had somehow killed him. Maybe his ass was just that good?
"You dead?" Style slurred quietly.
There was a pause.
Then, a soft sigh against his neck. "... no." He shifted his hips, which caused Style to wince from overstimulation, the feeling making his eyes flutter and a full-body shiver go through him. Fadel didn't pull out, though, not yet. His body was still, as though he were too tired to move. Style could relate. He knew he'd feel it in the morning. Actually, scratch that, he knew he would feel it for a couple days. His legs and ass were already aching, but in the way that he liked. He wanted to be sore for a little bit, a pleasant reminder of the night.
Style's lips curled up into a dopey, satisfied grin, and he hummed. He was happy, content. Fadel was still inside him, and knowing the moment Fadel moved that there would be cum dripping out of him, down his thighs and onto the sheets was an arousing thought. "That was... fuck." Style laughed tiredly, feeling the thick haze slowly leaving his mind. Unfortunately. "That was great, baby."
Fadel made a soft noise against the crook of his neck and shoulder. The movement had his body moving slightly and it had Style's breath hitching. When Fadel spoke, his voice was low and slightly muffled. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Style smiled. "Hurt me? Oh, Fadel, you could break my spine and I'd ask for more. Don't worry about me."
There was a small, amused puff of air against his neck that had his heart fluttering and his stomach flipping. He could stay like this forever, but it was unfortunate when Fadel finally pulled out with a soft groan. There was a wet, slick noise when he pulled away from him completely, and then there was a mess on the sheets and his legs. He could feel it, thick and wet and warm. He felt his cock twitch, but for once, he was too exhausted to do anything else.
"That's so fucking sexy," Style commented lazily, his voice a low murmur. He nuzzled his head back into the pillows as he felt Fadel move to get off of the bed. Style finally let his limp leg stretch out, though he had to help move it down with his hands. Damn, Fadel had really put him through it, huh? And Style couldn't be any more pleased about it.
He was already half asleep by the time he felt the bed dip and Fadel was at his side, wiping at his face, neck, chest, well... his entire body, because frankly, Style was disgusting. He didn't even open his eyes.
A noise of contentment bubbled up from the back of his throat when he felt Fadel carefully wipe between his legs, at his cock, his thighs. It was gentle. Sweet.
"Sleep," he muttered, patting the bed next to him blindly.
He didn't have to look to know Fadel was giving him a fond, exasperated stare, and he knew that he had won when the other side of the bed dipped and there was an arm around him, shifting him so he lay on his side, then pulling him close so his back was pressed against Fadel's chest. Style hummed happily and snuggled closer.
And if Fadel's arm wrapped around him a little tighter before shoving his face in his neck and leaving the tiniest kiss ever there— well... he would keep that tidbit to himself. For now, at least.
(did I make this gif just for this meme? Maybe)
