Chapter Text
Style was restless.
It had been only a week, yet he couldn't stop thinking about that night with Fadel. His mind would wander almost every waking moment his brain wasn't occupied. It was becoming too distracting, as he had began thinking about it at work. It's not fun popping a boner while underneath a car and with your father just a few feet away.
So, naturally, the solution would be to go see Fadel again.
He figured a week was enough time to get the man pining for him. A week is enough time for someone to fall in love, right? Probably not. Whatever, Style was stubborn and he wouldn't stop until the plan worked. He wanted that car so desperately, but he also didn't mind fucking the stoic man until he got it, either.
And who knows, maybe he'd actually get a boyfriend out of this whole ordeal?
... Well, maybe not. But still, it was a win-win situation.
With that, he decided to make his move.
He didn't want to seem too eager, though. No, no. He wanted to seem mysterious, like he didn't care. He'd play hard to get. Yeah, yeah. That was perfect.
After a full twenty minutes of planning, he hopped in his car and drove to the cute burger restaurant, anticipation burning inside him. He had a skip in his step when he got out of the car and approached the door, a smug grin plastered on his face. He was ready to win.
"Hey, hot stuff!"
Well, so much for mysterious and hard to get.
He practically shouted the boisterous greeting as he threw open the door and strode confidently in, his eyes landing on Fadel, who was currently helping a customer.
He could have sworn Fadel rolled his eyes when he saw him, but there was no change in expression. Style noticed Kant's little boytoy, Bison, a little further back assisting his own customer, and they made brief eye contact.
Styled waved and Bison raised his brows, his eyes widening a fraction. Oh, so Fadel had told his brother about what had happened, huh? Style's grin grew wider.
He watched the customer in front of Fadel take his food and walk off. He stood there for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting until Fadel turned to him.
"Can I help you?"
It was the dryest, most uninterested tone Style had ever heard and it was hilarious. This guy was funny.
"You can," Style replied, his tone smooth. "Take me out for drinks tonight."
Fadel scoffed, and it was music to Style's ears. "You're asking me out for drinks?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
"... I'm not interested."
"Aw, c'mon." Style sauntered closer. Surprisingly, Fadel didn't move back. "It'll be fun. Just one drink."
"You had plenty to drink last time. One would lead to two, and then three and four, and then you'd be wasted and I'd have to deal with that."
"I'd just make you my designated driver."
Fadel scoffed again. "No thanks."
"Come on, just one drink. One." Style held up a finger, wagging it a bit, his expression the picture of innocence.
Fadel's eyes locked on Style's waving finger, a small frown on his face. Style watched as the man's eye twitched just the slightest, and oh, he was getting so annoyed. It was adorable.
"Fine," Fadel finally relented, his eyes flicking up to meet Style's.
Style grinned, feeling triumphant.
"Great. Tonight, then. I'll meet you back here."
"Tonight, what?" Bison's voice cut in.
The two men turned to see Bison leaning against the counter, his brows raised.
Style hummed happily, completely pleased with himself, walking closer to the counter so he, too, could lean on it. "Your brother is taking me out for a drink tonight."
Bison's brows furrowed in badly disguised surprise, his gaze flicking between the two. "Really?"
"Apparently," Fadel replied, sounding annoyed.
Bison shrugged, a small smile forming. "Good, you deserve a night out."
Fadel just breathed heavily out of his nose and walked off, disappearing behind the counter and into the kitchen. Style was left staring after him. He couldn't help the smug smirk from forming on his lips.
He did it. He scored a date. Or, well, something akin to a date.
"Good luck." Bison's voice was quiet and soft, and when Style turned his head to look at him, the man was giving him a knowing smile. Style wasn't sure how much Fadel had told his brother, but he supposed it didn't matter.
"I'm a lucky man," Style replied, winking. "I'll get him to fall for me." Bison didn't know about his and Kant's agreement, but it didn't mean he couldn't boast a little. He was totally gonna make Fadel fall for him.
Bison laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Sure you will."
"I hate him."
Those words were a lie, and Bison absolutely knew that, and the knowing look his brother was giving him was a little too annoying.
"Do you?" Bison countered.
Fadel frowned softly. "Yes. He's so... cocky."
"But you think he's cute, though."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Bison just shrugged, scrubbing the dishes free of leftover food. Fadel glanced up at his brother from putting away the newly cleaned condiment containers, sighing.
"What do you want me to say?"
"I dunno," Bison mumbled. "Maybe that you want to sleep with him again."
Fadel didn't respond, just went back to organizing the condiments, placing the cleaned lids back on top.
"Or maybe that you're a little interested in him," Bison added, his tone teasing. "It's okay if you are, by the way. I know you don't approve of the men I date slash fuck, but I'll be supportive of whoever you like."
"I'm not interested in him," Fadel insisted, the lie so blatantly obvious. Bison snorted.
"Okay, okay."
"You're not helping," Fadel deadpanned, placing a hand on his hip and glaring at his brother. His eyes were cold, his gaze steely, but Bison didn't even bat an eye. He was used to this.
But, he knew his brother better than anyone. He could read in between the lines, and right now, he was seeing past Fadel's harsh façade.
Bison was silent for a long moment. "Sorry. But since you didn't kick him out the moment he walked through that door, I think you're not as annoyed with him as you make yourself believe."
Fadel sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. Bison was right. As unfortunate as that was, he did think the other man was cute. But that's all it was, he didn't have any feelings. Sure, the sex that one time was great, but he was just doing it because, well, why not?
He couldn't deny the way his heart skipped a beat when Style came into the restaurant. His stupid smile and can-do attitude. His confidence and his charisma. His stupid, cute face and his stupid, nice body and the way he makes these little noises when—
No. Nope. Not gonna go there.
Feeling eyes on him, he glanced up, meeting Bison's knowing smirk. In retaliation he threw the dirty rag that was tossed over his shoulder in Bison's direction, the wet fabric slapping him in the face. The sound was satisfying. Fadel allowed himself a small upwards quirk of his lips.
"Oops," Fadel said, and his tone was void of any sympathy.
Bison laughed and shook his head, taking the rag off his face and continuing to wash the dishes.
"You're gonna be late if you keep standing around," Bison chided, not even bothering to look at his brother.
Fadel sighed, but nodded, and began to head out. He needed to get ready for this... date. Ugh.
He was sure it was going to be a disaster.
Style pulled up once again to the little burger joint, excitement thrumming in his veins. This was happening, and it was going to be great.
He stepped out of the car, fixing his hair and straightening his shirt before striding up to the entrance.
Before he could even touch the door, it swung open, and the one and only Fadel stepped out.
"You're here early."
"Hey, sexy. And yeah, of course. It's better being early than late, am I right?"
Fadel just hummed, not commenting on the nickname. He looked Style up and down, his eyes appraising him. Style was glad he had chosen to wear the outfit he was wearing. Cropped t-shirt that showed off his toned body, jeans that accentuated his ass. Oh yeah, he was looking good.
"I see you checking me out," Style started, his tone smug and playful. "You're not too bad yourself." He returned the favor, checking the man out, ignoring the deadpan stare the other was giving him. Fadel had changed into a pair of loose pants and a fitted button-down, his sleeves rolled up, showing off his toned arms. The outfit wasn't exactly exciting, but it was simple and it suited him, and Style liked it.
Though, he preferred the man to be completely n—
"Let's get this over with," Fadel sighed, turning on his heel and walking towards Style's Skyline. Style shook himself out of his impure thoughts and followed behind him, but raced ahead of Fadel, going around the side of the car to open the passenger door for him.
"Here," he crooned teasingly. "Your carriage awaits."
Fadel's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared blankly at Style, who in turn grinned cheekily.
"Oh, c'mon, just get in the car."
With a long-suffering sigh, Fadel slid into the seat. Style shut the door and practically ran over to the driver's side.
"This is your car?"
"Yep," Style chirped. "Don't worry, she doesn't bite, she drives real smooth."
"She?"
"Yeah, I gave her a name and everything. This is my baby. My pride and joy."
Fadel just gave him a look. Style shrugged. "Don't tell me you don't name your car."
"I don't."
"You're lying, everyone names their cars."
Fadel rolled his eyes and Style grinned.
They arrived at the bar a few minutes later. The place was relatively loud, the large speakers thumping to a random song. Style could almost feel the beat in his chest as they walked in. There was a large group of people huddled around the karaoke stage, with some guy singing badly at the top of his lungs. The rest of the bar was full of people laughing, drinking, and generally having a good time.
It was the perfect spot.
"Alright," Style started, his hands on his hips as they first entered. They made their way over to the bar, sitting down onto the high stools. "First round's on me. What do you want?"
Fadel shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
"Ooh, okay, mysterious man. I'll order whatever, then."
Style called the bartender over and ordered two beers. The drinks were placed in front of them soon after, and they sat in silence, watching the karaoke singers and the drunkards dancing.
"So," Style began, turning his head to look over at Fadel. He noticed the other man was already looking at him. The sudden eye contact was a little jarring. "Um—"
Style wasn't one to get caught off guard. He was good at holding conversations, good at flirting and getting what he wanted. So why did he suddenly lose his train of thought?
"You talk too much."
The blunt comment shook him out of his stupor. He blinked a few times before letting out a laugh.
"That's rich, coming from the guy who won't say more than two words at a time," Style shot back with a playful smile.
"I'm just saying," Fadel countered. "If you'd shut up for awhile, we'd be able to actually hold a conversation."
"Oh, so you wanna talk, huh? Why don't you tell me about yourself then, big boy."
"There's nothing interesting about me."
"Doubt it. You're a real enigma, you know."
Fadel just raised an eyebrow and Style continued, leaning his elbow on the counter and tilting his head, his eyes raking up and down Fadel's body.
"Let's start at the beginning, then. What's your favorite color?"
Style could swear that he saw Fadel's lips quirk up just slightly in a smile. This made Style feel ecstatic.
"Red," the man answered monotonously, face still unreadable. The tone was almost funny; Style had to stifle a laugh bubbling up his throat.
"Red, huh? The color of romance." Style sing-songed the last word, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
"Shut up," Fadel retorted, his voice even and his expression blank. Honestly, Style couldn't tell if he was genuinely annoyed or just playing around.
"Alright, alright," Style placated before taking a sip of his beer. He hummed, thinking. "Why'd you agree to this?"
Fadel looked away, taking a sip of his own drink. Style couldn't help but watch the way the muscles in his throat moved when he swallowed—
"Because," Fadel began, snapping Style out of his daze. "You wouldn't stop annoying me until I said yes."
"Well, you're not wrong," Style responded with a grin. "So, do you regret coming out here with me tonight?"
"A little."
"Rude."
"You asked."
Style didn't feel insulted or hurt. Fadel's words only had Style smiling even harder. He found the man's bluntness and honesty amusing. While he still thought Fadel had a very inflated ego and a negative outlook on life, it was a little endearing. He could appreciate someone who speaks their mind.
Someone suddenly bumping into him brought him away from his thoughts. How they even managed to get close enough—he was sitting at the bar, after all, completely out of the way of the footpath—was a mystery.
"Hey, sorry about that," the stranger started. He was tall and thin, with dark hair, and even darker eyes. He practically towered over Style with his sheer height. "I'm not usually this clumsy."
"No worries," Style replied with a charming smile.
"You're really hot, by the way."
And, well, that was very straightforward. Style chuckled, shaking his head.
"Thanks."
The guy was staring him down, his eyes roaming Style's body. It made him more than a little uncomfortable. He shifted on his stool subtly. Right now, he only had eyes for one hottie, and that hottie was sitting right beside him.
"So, what's a guy like you doing here alone? You got a boyfriend or something?"
"Actually—"
"He's with me."
Styled looked over at Fadel with widened eyes. The words came as a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Fadel's face was blank as he essentially glowered coldly at the other man, his jaw tense and his arms crossed.
"Oh," the man said, sounding a little taken aback. "Well, I'll see you around, then."
He was gone just as quickly as he appeared, and Style couldn't help the laughter bubbling up inside him.
"Jealous much?"
"What? No. He bumped into you on purpose. He didn't have good intentions."
"I'm sure it was an accident, but okay. Thanks, by the way."
Fadel waved a dismissive hand and took another sip of his drink. With a chuckle, Style finished his own off.
They sat in amicable silence for the next few minutes while Style thought of something to say. Why couldn't he think of anything? Why did the guy have to come and distract him? Ugh.
"Hey, this one's on the house."
That made him look up, immediately making eye contact with the bartender who gave him a wink before sliding over another beer.
"Uh, thanks."
The bartender leaned closer, smiling flirtatiously. "Anytime, sweetheart. I can give you more if you're willing."
"Thanks," Style repeated, taking the beer and giving the bartender a tight-lipped smile.
The bartender left with a slight frown. Style's eyes shifted back over to Fadel, who was glaring at the now empty glass in his hand. His grip was scarily tight and his knuckles were white from the tension.
"You okay there?"
"Fine," Fadel mumbled.
"If you say so."
Fadel didn't look at him. In fact, he was still staring at his empty glass, his brows furrowed.
"Alright," Style said, standing up and stretching. "I'm gonna go dance. You can join me, if you want."
Fadel finally looked at him, his face neutral. Style couldn't tell what the man was thinking, his emotions tucked tightly under his thick mask.
"I'll wait for you here."
Style ignored the flash of disappointment and forced a toothy grin, turning to leave, making his way towards the throng of bodies.
Once he got to the center, his body began moving with the music, his eyes closing and his mind focusing on the bass, the lyrics, the atmosphere. He could hear the voices of the people surrounding him, their shouts and cheers fueling him.
He was getting lost in the music, and he honestly didn't care that people were bumping into him. His hips swayed and his body moved fluidly. His hands were above his head; he felt like he was floating, the lights and the music bringing him into a trance.
A pair of hands grabbing at his hips startled him. His eyes flew open and he whipped his head to see who the perpetrator was.
"Hey, I saw you dancing over here, and couldn't help but come say hi."
Okay, this was an entirely new man. That would be three just this evening, which wasn't a record for Style, but it was definitely a lot.
"Oh, yeah," Style purred, smiling. "What's up?"
"Wanna dance?"
"Sure."
The man wasn't too bad of a dancer. His hips moved with the music fluidly. Style closed his eyes, letting the music take over once more.
A few songs went by, and the man's hands kept wandering. Style didn't let the hands linger in certain areas, but he danced right back with as much vigor as the other. A sly idea popped into his head the moment he felt Fadel's burning gaze in the back of his head. A sneaky smile made it's way into his face as he spun around, his back pressing against the stranger's chest.
He began moving his hips to the rhythm, feeling the man behind him respond. The song playing was sensual and sexy, and Style knew exactly what he was doing. He could feel the other man's hands on his waist, holding him tight. The man's breath was hot against the back of his neck. He wasn't turned on, no. But if he imagined it to be Fadel, then maybe it'd be different.
Speaking of, his eyes flicked upwards, searching through the crowd until they landed on a familiar set of brown eyes.
Fadel's jaw was tense, and his eyes were narrowed and cold. His arms were crossed over his chest, staring daggers at the man currently grinding against Style.
Style just sent him a little wave, grinning like a maniac, and the reaction he received was well worth it. Even from their distance, Style watched with satisfaction as Fadel's eye twitched quite fiercely before he seemingly forced himself to look away from them.
The man's grip suddenly tightened on Style's waist. Curious, Style looked up, wondering why he stopped.
"That your boyfriend or something?"
"... Something."
"Huh."
The man left without another word. Style huffed out a laugh. He made his way over to where Fadel was still sitting, a smug grin on his face, panting from the exertion of dancing. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.
"I'm surprised you didn't punch the guy's lights out."
Fadel didn't even glance at him, his gaze instead focused on the counter in front of him. "I wasn't going to," he grit out, his tone clipped.
"Sure." The word was full of sarcasm. He knew Fadel was jealous, and that made him giddy. His little plan was working, but not enough. He wanted Fadel to snap. Yeah, that'd be hot.
He ordered a couple more beers and the two fell back into silence. The music was loud and the bar was buzzing with activity, and yet, they were silent. Style wasn't sure how long they sat there, the tension thick. It wasn't necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but it was tense, and the tension was almost suffocating.
Style was not even close to being drunk, just lightly buzzed, but it was enough for him to want to make a move. His skin was prickling and the hair on the back of his neck was standing up. The air was electrified with a palpable and undeniably heaviness. Style was going to get to the bottom of it.
"Are you mad at me or something?"
Fadel didn't reply, his jaw set and his eyes glued onto the countertop. Style watched him swallow hard before he replied curtly. "No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Then why do you seem so pissed off?"
Fadel glanced at him, his eyes dark and his face expressionless. It was the same look he had given Style the night they fucked. The same look of lust, something akin to hatred and pure need. And Style would be lying if he said he didn't crave it.
Style barely noticed the bartender come back to hand him a little piece of paper, the small, folded slip placed in front of him on the counter gently. He tore his eyes away from Fadel, mouth dry, to look at the paper. There was a number scrawled across it, and a little heart beside it.
Oh.
He glanced back up, making eye contact with the bartender. The bartender gave him a small smile and a wave, and Style returned the gesture, a small, forced smile on his lips.
That must've been the breaking point for Fadel, because suddenly there was a hand on his arm, and he was being pulled off the bar stool.
"Hey!"
He didn't protest much after that, and instead let himself be dragged along, watching with wide eyes as Fadel grabbed two hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and threw it onto the counter. Their tab was not that high. The man owned a burger joint for god's sake, what the hell?
Fadel didn't let go of his arm as he led him roughly out of the bar. They walked a few feet before Fadel suddenly turned, shoving Style against the brick wall of the building, his arms on either side of him, caging him in. Style felt a delicious thrill go down his spine.
"Why do you like getting yourself into situations like this?"
Fadel's voice was quiet, his tone dangerous. It made Style's cock twitch in his pants.
"What do you mean?"
"Flirting with all those guys. You let someone grind against your ass for a good five minutes, and you smiled and laughed like it was nothing. What's the end goal, huh?"
"It's not flirting," Style insisted, though he had a shit-eating grin on his face. "And, well, what can I say? I enjoy attention. Don't you?"
"No."
"Liar."
Fadel was breathing hard, his chest heaving, and his eyes were practically smoldering. His whole body was tense, and the way he was leaning over Style was dominating and strong, and oh, Style was getting hot and bothered.
"Fuck me."
Fadel blinked. "What?"
"I want you to fuck me," Style repeated, his voice low and seductive.
Fadel stared at him for a long moment, his face unreadable. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly. Style's heart was pounding loudly in his ears, the sound nearly deafening. Finally, Fadel stepped away, his hands falling to his sides. Style immediately felt disappointment and embarrassment course through him. Style was never embarrassed, yet here he was, blushing and feeling humiliated.
"Come on, let's go," Fadel muttered, turning and walking off, leaving Style standing there.
"What?" Style cried, incredulous. He ran a hand through his hair, a frown etched onto his face. What the fuck was going on? Was this some kind of punishment? What the hell did he do wrong? Did he somehow read Fadel wrong? No, he was sure he saw that undeniable fire of lust in the man's eyes.
His mind was swimming. He didn't know what to do. All his confidence, all his cockiness and charisma was gone. Out the window. Poof. Bye-bye.
Dejectedly, he followed Fadel back to the car, his head hung low. He had parked behind the bar, as far away from other cars as possible, not risking anyone parking next to him and potentially scratching up his baby.
Standing by the car after unlocking it, Fadel's stare bore holes through Style's body. He met his eyes and shivered. There was barely any light now that it was nighttime, and the only street light was a few feet away, barely illuminating both men with its soft glow.
"Get in the backseat," Fadel commanded, and Style jumped. His heart skipped a beat, his eyes going wide, and he stared at the other man with a mixture of shock and surprise.
"What—"
"Get in the back seat," Fadel repeated, his voice cold and rough, and this time, Style shivered violently.
Well, shit, he didn't have to be told again.
It was awkward, having to climb between the driver and passenger seats to reach the small, cramped back space of the car, but when he finally plopped down onto the seat, Fadel climbed in after him, shutting the door with a loud, echoing slam.
"F—"
"Don't speak."
Damn.
The command was abrupt and sudden, and it made Style's blood burn. He felt dizzy, like the oxygen was being sucked from his lungs. The air was electric and the atmosphere was tense. He didn't know what to do, and for once, he listened and shut his mouth like the good boy he was.
Fadel's stare was blazing. He felt like his body was being set on fire. Fadel settled back against the seat next to Style and spread his legs. Lifting a hand, he beckoned Style with his finger. He lowered his hand after a moment and pat his thigh. Style's stomach dropped to his feet.
Holy shit.
For once, Style was completely speechless, his mind short-circuiting. Did Fadel really expect him to sit in his lap? Well, yes, obviously, but still it was surprising seeing the man so open and willing.
"Come here."
Styled didn't have to be told again. Slowly, cautiously, he crawled over the seat, and straddled Fadel's thighs. It was awkward, with his back hunched over, the space a bit too cramped, but Fadel didn't complain, so neither did Style.
"You're quiet," Fadel mused. His voice was softer now, more controlled. It still held that edge, though, and it made Style's body continue to tingle. "I didn't think you were capable of being quiet."
"You told me not to speak," Style murmured, his gaze flicking down to the man's lips.
"Mm."
They were silent; the only sounds that filled the air were their soft breathing and the distant muffled music from inside the bar that floated out into the parking lot.
Fadel's hand was warm, and when he reached up to grab Style's face, he couldn't help but lean into the touch. It was comforting and intimate. Style couldn't help but feel like his world was shifting on its axis.
Style then might as well nearly died and went to heaven, because Fadel shifted, causing Style to slide forwards just a bit, and oh— Fadel was hard.
"You want me to fuck you?"
Oh!
"Y-yes," Style replied with no hesitation, his voice cracking unwittingly. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to look away from Fadel's.
"You've been such a brat," Fadel continued in a mutter, almost as if to himself. His hand slid down to squeeze at Style's throat, though his hold still much too loose to be considered choking.
Fuck, Style was so hard. He owed a 'thank you' to the bartender, because Style wasn't sure how far he'd get with Fadel without him.
"Haven't I?" Style teased playfully despite the nervousness bubbling in his chest. At least some of his usual attitude was sneaking back, which he was thankful for. He was never nervous.
Fadel's expression was dark as he hummed. His free hand then snaked around to Style's back, slipping down and grabbing his ass.
"Ah—"
Fadel sighed out of his nose. "Shut up."
Style huffed a soft laugh, feeling breathless. "Nah, I suddenly feel like talking. Did you know— eek—"
He was cut off when Fadel's fingers tightened around his throat. Not enough to restrict airflow, but enough to make him feel dizzy with pleasure.
"Shut. Up."
The words were growled so seductively, Style couldn't help the shudder that went through him. His eyes slipped closed, and he wheezed out a small, shaky laugh.
"Make me."
That was the second breaking point of the evening.
Fadel then yanked Style down by the hand on his neck and his mouth was suddenly on Style's. The kiss was hard and passionate. Their teeth clacked together and their tongues slid against each other's. Oh, how it was messy. Style's hands grabbed at Fadel's shoulders while Fadel's free hand squeezed his ass and then his thigh, and fuck— Style was going to die.
He couldn't help the whines and whimpers that came from him. Fadel's fingers were digging into his skin and his mouth was relentless against his own. It was wet and hot, and Style was beyond enamoured.
There was a hunger in Fadel's kisses, a burning need, and oh how Style wanted to get eaten.
"Ah— mngh—"
Styled gasped when he felt a hand snake between his legs and squeeze his clothed erection. His hips twitched and he unconsciously rolled his hips in the direction of the pressure, chasing more, more, more.
Fadel's mouth was suddenly gone and Style groaned, already missing the warmth.
"Stop. Moving."
The order was rough, the words were grit out as if they were painful to utter. Style felt like his brain was fried. He didn't know what to do or say.
"You're being awfully demanding, sexy," Style eventually purred once he caught his breath. Fadel's muscles flexed underneath his hands. Oh how he just wanted to get the man naked and see just how ripped he was. Fuck, he was practically drooling at the thought.
"You want me to fuck you?"
Fadel repeated his words from earlier, but this time, his voice was low, husky, and downright sinful. Style couldn't stop the delightful shiver that went down his spine. "Yeah."
"Then let me take control."
Styled hummed, tilting his head to the side, his tone almost a whine. "Why?"
"Because you've been teasing me all night," Fadel replied. He gripped Style's waist with both hands and used Style to grind down onto his clothed arousal. "Don't think I didn't notice."
"Oh," Style moaned, his mouth hanging open and his eyes half-lidded. "Oh, yeah, I was."
"And if you don't do as I say," Fadel added darkly. "I won't give you what you want."
"Okay, okay," Style whimpered. He could barely focus. "Fuck, I'll stop talking or whatever, just don't stop—"
"Good boy."
If Style had been able to think, he'd have made a snarky comment about being called a good boy. But at the moment, he couldn't. He was lost in the pleasure of being rubbed against. His hips were grinding down onto the hardness beneath him, and he was just ecstatic that Fadel was letting him.
"Fuck," he hissed, digging his nails into Fadel's shoulders. "You're gonna have to fuck me soon or I'll come in my pants."
"Patience."
"Seriously, if you don't fuck me right now, I'll find someone else who will."
That got a reaction.
The look in Fadel's eyes was one of pure fury, and Style was glad that expression wasn't directed at him.
"Oh? Jealous much?"
Fadel's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. Before Style could open his mouth to say more, Fadel practically grabbed Style by the neck and threw him down onto the seat beside him, who landed with a small noise. Fadel began essentially ripping Style's pants off, but it was really difficult with the limited space.
"If you get anything on my seats you're cleaning them," Style breathed, his voice tight, a shit-eating smirk adorning his face.
"I will shove your fucking pants down your throat if you don't shut up."
Style giggled, opening his mouth to give another sassy remark, but instead yelped when his pants were forcefully ripped down and off along with his shoes and boxers, and Fadel's hands were on his legs, shoving them apart and pulling him towards him.
"Oh—"
Fadel's hands were like fire, burning him from the inside out where they sat on his thighs. The look on his face was almost indifferent, but his eyes told a different story. His brown irises were clouded with desire, his pupils dilated and his gaze intense.
"Do you have lube this time?" Fadel asked. He sounded completely wrecked. Damn. What a sexy man.
Style nodded and reached down onto the floor where a small bag sat. He rummaged through the contents until his hand grasped the familiar bottle. He pulled it out and tossed it in Fadel's direction.
"There you go."
Fadel took the lube and placed the bottle onto the seat beside him, although there wasn't much room and the bottle nearly toppled over onto the ground. His gaze flicked up, staring at Style with a blank expression. His hands went up, wrapping around Style's thighs, his thumbs brushing over the soft skin.
Style shuddered and laid his head back, spreading his legs a little further, letting a low, enticing whine escape his lips. Fadel was still staring at him. Style felt a thrill run through him. The way Fadel looked at him, with those smoldering brown eyes, it made him feel like he was worth something. Like he was important. He wasn't sure if he had imagined it or not, but he didn't care.
The stare was like fire licking up his body. It was intense, and it made his heart pound in his chest.
"Hurry up," he groaned, feeling almost ready to prep himself if Fadel didn't get a move on. It's not nice to keep a guy waiting, you know.
"Impatient," Fadel mused. There was a hint of a smile in his tone that had Style feeling feral.
"Yeah, yeah. Now, c'mon, please. You're taking forever."
"Fine," Fadel sighed, clicking the cap on the lube open.
It was cold when the substance first touched him, and his back arched a little in response, hissing through his teeth. It quickly warmed, though, and Style found himself moving his hips, trying the get the digit in further, praying that Fadel would go faster and give him more. He could handle it.
"Behave."
Styled huffed a laugh, grinning. "Why should I?"
"Because I said so."
"Ooh, bossy. I like it."
"Shut up."
"Jeez, is that your favorite phrase or what?"
Fadel was silent after that, and the only sounds that could be heard was Style's quiet whimpers and moans and the soft sounds of Fadel opening Style.
"Mmm, more," Style groaned, his mouth hanging open as his eyes slid shut with bliss. Fadel obliged, slipping a third finger inside.
"Ah—"
It burned, the stretch, but Style could handle it. It was good, the pain mixing with the pleasure. He couldn't stop the noises that escaped his mouth. He could feel Fadel's heated stare that was still on him, and the thought of the other man watching him sent a wave of heat straight to his gut. His neglected arousal leaked against his abdomen, and fuck, he could feel the pre-come leaking down his skin and...
Onto his pristine cloth seats!
"Fuck, no— my seats are gonna be dirty," Style whined through a few gasps. Leave it to him to worry about the interior of his car getting dirty whilst getting fucked. Well, technically he wasn't getting fucked yet, but whatever.
"That's what you're worried about right now?"
"Yes," Style mewled, exasperated, and then moaned, his hips jerking upwards when Fadel's fingers brushed his prostate. "Mmm, oh fuck—"
"If you keep moving, I'll leave you here like this," Fadel warned roughly, the words practically forced out. The sound went straight to Style's cock, which gave a hearty twitch. An impressive glob of pre-come trickled onto his abdomen, leaving a sticky trail in its wake.
"Ah, no, please. Don't, I'm sorry," Style gasped, his eyes watering a bit. It was hard not to move, not to grind down on those gorgeous fingers, and the fact that he had to hold still was so torturous. "Come on, fuck me already."
With a shaky arm, he dug blindly into the same bag he grabbed the lube from, letting out a little noise of triumph when his fingers closed around the little crinkling square.
He brought the condom out, waving it in the air. "Here, hurry up and fuck me."
With a roll of his eyes, Fadel accepted the condom. Style forced an elbow underneath him—emphasis on forced; there was literally, barely any room—to prop himself up to watch Fadel undo his pants.
Fadel's eyes flicked up to meet Style's and Style just grinned sheepishly, waving a hand as if to say 'go on.'
Fadel rolled his eyes and unbuckled his belt. Once it was undone, his fingers worked on the button and the zipper, then he tugged his pants and boxers down just enough to expose his cock.
"Oh, fuck, you're big."
Fadel's eye twitched.
"What, surprised? I'm not. I remember our last fuck session last week, and boy, that was fun. You got a real good—"
"Shut up."
"Oh, come on, don't be shy. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You got a big dick, and I love big—"
His breath hitched on a wheezing moan when Fadel's hand suddenly wrapped around Style's cock, squeezing and sliding oh so slowly. Style's arm gave out and he fell back, breathless, feeling like he could come just from that touch.
"Mmm— ah—"
"Insufferable," Fadel muttered under his breath.
"Fuck, you're such a— aah, an asshole," Style groaned. His hips jerked upwards at the same time he let out a high-pitched whine. He wanted more. He was so close to release. Just a bit more— "Fuck, Fadel, wait— please, don't—"
"Hm?"
"Don't make me come yet, please. Ah— fuck," Style pleaded, his eyes squeezed shut. His hands were clenching and unclenching the fabric of his shirt, bunching it up in his fists. "I'll suck your dick later, please."
Fuck, he swore he heard the smallest huff of laughter from the other man, but he couldn't be sure. He could feel Fadel's thumb brushing lightly across the underside of his length, his grip loose.
"Stop, ah— please, fuck," Style gasped, his breath catching in his throat.
"Fine," Fadel relented, and then his hand was gone. Style whimpered, his hips still rolling up into nothing. Yes, he asked Fadel to stop, but he still missed the touch. Still, he'd rather have Fadel's dick inside of him more than anything else.
"F-fuck, fuck, come on, hurry," Style moaned, almost in tears. He was so hard it was almost painful. His chest heaved, his breathing harsh and ragged.
"Alright."
He could hear the condom wrapper being ripped open, the rubber being rolled down over the hardness. Oh, yes, yes, yes. He couldn't wait anymore.
He could feel Fadel shift, could feel his large, strong hands grip his waist and pull him towards him forcefully.
And oh—
That must've done something to him because he was already coming.
A high-pitched, breathy keen tore it's way out of his throat and his hands scrambled for purchase on the seat, his nails scratching the material. His vision went white; it felt like his body was on fire and his head was spinning and, honestly, he was pretty sure he could feel his soul actively leaving his body.
Fadel froze, staring down at him with slightly widened eyes. Through bleary eyes, Style could see the way Fadel's pupils were blown wide and how his lips parted slightly in shock, his jaw a little slack.
"Ah—" Style breathed, feeling completely wrecked already, his eyes half-lidded. "S-sorry."
"What was that?" Fadel's voice was husky, a growl, an edge of incredulity laced through the tone.
"I didn't mean to," Style moaned. "You teased me too much."
"Oh," was all Fadel said. Style was sure the other man was nearly smiling, though the look in his eyes was almost feral, hungry, and the look was so intense, and fuck—
"I'll just come again, then," Style murmured, his eyes rolling back. He was almost drooling, still feeling the strong aftershocks of his orgasm tear through him. He didn't have the strength to lift a hand to wipe at his mouth. "You gonna fuck me or— oh!"
Fadel cut Style off with a hard thrust of his hips, his cock buried deep inside Style in one fell swoop, and Style's vision went white all over again.
"Nngh— fuck—"
Fadel groaned, his hands gripping Style's waist tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh. He pulled out slowly, almost completely, and then snapped his hips forward again, burying himself deep within Style once more.
"Aah—"
Styled let out a high-pitched sound that would put a porn star to shame, then his hips rolled down, trying to get more of that sweet friction. His cock was already hardening again, the sparks of pleasure from the sharp thrusts of Fadel's hips going straight to his arousal.
Fadel's grip was tight and his movements were sharp, and Style was in heaven. His back arched as his hands clenched the material of the seat underneath him. Fadel's name was on his tongue, a mantra spilling from his mouth.
"Yes, yes, yes," Style moaned, his voice hoarse, his words coming out a slurred, almost incomprehensible mess. "Ah— a-ah, p-please—"
He wasn't even sure what he was asking for, but he knew Fadel could give it to him. Whatever he wanted.
"F-fuck," he breathed, feeling dizzy and delirious, wanting something to grab onto for leverage. Fadel was just a bit too far away for him to comfortably hold onto the man's shoulders.
It seemed as if Fadel knew what he was thinking, because he moved his hands from their spot on Style's hips to instead bracket around Style's head. He leaned down, their chests almost touching, and then kissed him open-mouthed and filthy.
The angle was awkward, and they were both cramped, but the way their bodies slotted together made it worth it. Style's hands found their way into Fadel's hair, running through the strands, his fingers carding through the dark locks.
Their mouths moved in sync, their tongues sliding against each other, their teeth clacking together. The kiss was messy and downright sinful. Style loved it.
Fadel's movements became a bit more frantic, almost as if he were rushing. Style was getting lost in the sensation. They broke the kiss, and Fadel's lips began trailing down his neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin.
"Ah, ah, yes, mmm— oh, F-Fadel," Style moaned, his head spinning. The sounds he made were absolutely lewd, but Style wasn't embarrassed in the slightest. "Mmm— nngh— yes, ah—"
Style let out a choking noise when Fadel moved the angle of his hips and rammed into Style's prostate, sending sparks of pure unadulterated pleasure through him. His cock twitched against his stomach, leaking and desperate for touch.
Fadel's hand was then suddenly sneaking between their bodies, wrapping around Style's cock. The pressure was good, too good, but it was also a little overwhelming. The way Fadel's hips kept moving, hitting his sweet spot over and over, and his hand stroking him, it was too much, and yet, it wasn't enough.
Fuck. He wanted Fadel. All of him. Everything.
He could feel another orgasm building, the coil in his gut getting tighter and tighter. His breathing was labored, and his mind was swimming. He could feel Fadel's harsh breath against his ear, the feeling hot and damp and sexy. It made his whole body tingle. He unknowingly gripped tighter on Fadel's hair, distantly hearing the man groan lightly.
"I'm— nngh—!" he cried out, unable to say much more, and the hand stroking him quickened, his body wracked with tremors as the heat in his gut blossomed more and more—
"Gonna—"
The sentence died on his tongue, but he knew Fadel knew what he meant.
The coil snapped and he came for the second time that evening, his orgasm tearing through him. His body tensed and his head fell back, his mouth open in a silent scream. His release spilled over his clothed chest and stomach, vaguely feeling the way Fadel's body trembled above him.
Fadel was letting out little puffs of breaths, his hips slowing down, stuttering. Style could tell the man was close.
"C-come on," Style croaked, his voice rough and his body spent, yet he still took Fadel's thrusting like a champ. "Come inside me, fill me up, please."
He knew his words were the final nail in the coffin. Smiling smugly, he relished the moment Fadel stilled, burying his face into Style's neck. He rolled his hips through his orgasm, which had Style shuddering with a quiet noise of pleasure.
The feeling of Fadel coming was too hot to bear, so Style let out a low moan, his back arching into Fadel's body. He secretly wished there wasn't a condom between them, so he could feel the way Fadel's release would actually fill him up, and how it would slowly drip out of him—
And he was getting hard again.
Well. That's what happens when you think about sex.
Fadel was breathing heavily, slumped over Style, their chests pressed together. It was almost intimate.
Almost.
"Hey, Fadel."
Fadel let out a quiet, exhausted groan as his hand came up to shove Style's face away.
"Rude," Style laughed, pushing Fadel's face back. "I have something to tell you."
Fadel pulled his face away, lifting himself up, his arms straining with the effort. "What."
"I'm hard again."
"... What."
"Yup," Style said, popping the 'p.' "My refractory period is really short. Wanna go another round?"
"What are you, a rabbit?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
Fadel looked at him, his eyebrows raised and a look of disbelief etched onto his features. Oh, he loved that look. The most emotion he's seen from the man, other than pure rage, of course.
It was delicious and sexy and Style wanted more of it.
Though, above all, he really wanted to see him smile. And find out what face he makes when he comes. Oh yeah, definitely that.
"So, how about it?"
Fadel's gaze dropped, his eyes trailing down Style's body, landing on the hardness between them. Style felt a surge of arousal run through him. Fadel was still inside him, his softening cock still warm and full, and Style wanted it. He wriggled his hips, letting out a little breathy noise.
"Please," he added, his voice taking a tone of desperation.
Fadel didn't respond, but the way his lips parted, his eyes clouding with lust, told Style everything.
"Come on, baby," Style purred, wrapping his legs around Fadel's waist, bringing the man closer. He rolled his hips and Fadel hissed. "Fuck me so hard I can't walk, yeah? Come on, give it to me."
He felt Fadel twitch inside him, and he grinned, knowing he got to him.
"Fuck, fine. But give me a second. Move."
"Oh, so demanding," Style mused, still a little breathless, but did as he was told, unwrapping his legs and letting Fadel pull out. The loss made him whine, his hole clenching pathetically on nothingness. He had half a mind to reach down and push a finger in, to fill himself up a little more.
He was horny but not that horny.
He watched Fadel pull the condom off and tie the end. He threw it to the floor which Style glowered at. He wasn't sure where the little trash can he kept in here was, but it was definitely not on the floor.
"You're paying for the cleaning," he said sassily, but Fadel just rolled his eyes.
"Whatever. Come here."
Styled didn't have to be told twice. He shifted on the seat, sitting up with a wince, and crawled over, throwing a leg over Fadel's thighs and straddling his lap. This was a nice view, Style mused; now he could see Fadel's face when he came.
"So, wanna know a fun fact about me?" Style hummed, a grin slowly spreading across his face which was wide and cheeky. Oh, he loved this. Fadel is probably the best fuck he's had in, well, ever. And he's effortlessly funny with his little eyebrow quirks and stoic facial expressions. And he's sexy. Was Style falling for the man? Maybe.
Fadel stared at him, an eyebrow raised and his expression blank. "What."
"I like to ride."
With that, Style reached behind him, his hand finding the other man's length, and stroked him back to hardness. Fadel's cock was lightly slick; his hand glided easily. He desperately wanted Fadel to slide in with no condom so he could feel every little bit of him, and so he secretly hoped that Fadel would forget to use one.
"Shit," Fadel swore quietly, his hands gripping Style's hips in a iron-like grip.
"Mmm, yes," Style moaned, rolling his body, rubbing his ass over Fadel's cock. "Come on, fuck me."
Fadel's eyes fluttered briefly. "Condom."
Damn it.
"Just fuck me," Style urged, his hand squeezing lightly around the leaking head, watching in satisfaction as Fadel did a full-body shudder. "I'm clean, I swear. Don't need a condom, c'mon, come on—"
Fadel groaned, digging his fingers harder into the soft skin.
"Do you want my cum to drip out of you and onto your seats?"
Styled stopped, his eyes widening, cheeks flushing a bright red. Fuck, he didn't know why the image sent a jolt of pleasure to his groin, but it did. "Um—"
"Condom."
"But—"
"Now."
"Fine."
He didn't let go of Fadel, though, and continued stroking the other man until the condom was unwrapped and rolled down over the hard cock. Lifting his hips, he began guiding Fadel's length to his entrance.
He sank down with a happy groan, and fuck— it felt so good to be full again. He grabbed one hand onto Fadel's shoulder while the other went to the top of the seat, behind the man's head, and gripped the fabric.
"Ah, fuck, yeah, that's good," he breathed to himself. His hips practically had a mind of their own, rolling and lifting and sinking back down. Fadel helped guide Style's hips with his warm, sexy hands. The grip was tight. Style could already feel the bruises forming.
He wanted Fadel to come again, so badly. He needed to see that orgasm face.
He began riding the man in earnest, his body practically bouncing on his cock, his back arching, his moans and whines spilling from his mouth like a prayer. He felt hot, but there was barely any room to take off his shirt, which was lightly damp from sweat and the few streaks of cum.
"Ah, Fadel, aah—"
His movements were getting more and more erratic, and at this point he was practically slamming down onto the man's length, the sound of his ass hitting Fadel's thighs ringing in the air obscenely.
"Shit, Style," Fadel growled, his hips snapping upwards to meet Style's.
Style's head fell back and his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. Fuck, it felt so good, being in control but also still being controlled. He wanted Fadel to lose all control, though; to use him and treat him like a slut.
"F-fuck," Style gasped as if he was drowning. Fadel's grip tightened, his cock thrusting up into him harder and faster and—
"Come on, Style," Fadel murmured, his voice hoarse and rough, and it sent a wave of arousal straight through him, making his cock throb. "I can feel— shit. You're about to come, yeah?"
"Nngh— ah—"
Not yet, he wanted to see Fadel come, he wanted to—
"I'll come with you."
"W-what?" Style asked, his voice a squeak. His hips rolled, trying to chase his orgasm, but he felt conflicted as he really wanted Fadel to come first this time.
"Let's come together," Fadel continued, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His voice was deep and husky, broken. The sound of it sent a violent shiver down Style's spine. "Come with me."
"I— aah— nngh, okay," Style forced out, his body trembling, his thighs shaking and burning from the exertion of fucking himself on Fadel's cock.
Fadel's hand slid from his hip, wrapping around Style's length and giving it a few tugs. Style barely had time to take a breath before he was coming again, his release painting both him and Fadel's abdomens. He came silently, head thrown back, mouth open in a soundless cry. But Fadel didn't come at the same time, so that meant Style had a chance to see Fadel's orgasm face.
With a breathy, weak moan—and still riding out his own orgasm—Style forced his head up and blearily opened his eyes, watching Fadel's face with rapt attention.
"Fuck," Fadel swore, his thrusts becoming even more erratic, and then with one last thrust, he stilled, spilling into the condom.
"Fuck, that's hot," Style moaned, watching the way Fadel's jaw was slack, his lips parted. His dark hair was a mess, and his brows were furrowed and his eyelids were closed, and fuck, he was gorgeous. Style wished he had a camera to capture that look on his face forever.
Fadel's grip on Style's cock loosened, and the two panted, trying to catch their breath. They were still for a long moment, both shivering from the aftershocks. Style felt absolutely content. He slumped forward and Fadel let Style basically crush him into the seat, their heaving chests resting against each other. It felt intimate.
Style's mind wandered in the haze of the afterglow. He had been fucked, a lot now, by the hottest man he's ever met, and now he had a plan to make that man his.
Fuck that damn car.
Fuck the deal with Kant.
Fadel was going to be his new ride.
