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After the previous day's wonderful and successful plan—that is, Operation: Annoy Fadel Into Caving Again—Style decided that he would ease up on the annoying part for now. After all, he wanted the man to miss him and his wonderful presence. He figured if he gave him a bit of space, maybe he'd realize how much Style meant to him. And Style was absolutely determined to have Fadel miss him and crave his company, and then, hopefully, they could start a relationship and get married and have amazing sex everyday and have a beautiful home and live happily ever after.
Okay, so maybe it was a little much, but that was how Style dreamed his future would be.
He would give Fadel a break for a few days, and then come back, stronger and sexier and more irresistible than ever. He was already making great progress, all he had to do was get Fadel to start missing him, and then everything else would fall into place.
The plan was foolproof.
Or, at least, that's what he hoped.
And that was before he had made his way to the market. He only went so he could get a glimpse of Fadel. He wouldn't interact, no, he had to keep to his plan. But, he was too late, and the man wasn't there.
He was about to leave, but the auntie who worked at the meat stall let him know someone had asked about him, and that just about sent him onto a mission to find Fadel—it was clearly Fadel who else would ask about him—confess his undying attraction, and get on his knees and give the man the best blowjob of his life.
Style felt full of courage and cockiness as he helped himself into Heart Burger. Who leaves the front door unlocked while closed? Well, at least he didn't have to try and break in, now.
Sauntering into the kitchen, Fadel didn't even look up before he began speaking; he clearly was expecting someone else.
"You're back, how was it? Everything went well, then?" Fadel's tone was casual and relaxed, and Style assumed the man though he was Bison.
Spreading his arms, a self-satisfied smirk already on his lips as he walked further into the kitchen, Style announced his glorious presence in an almost sing-songy voice. "I'm back. Did you miss me?" He placed his hands onto the stainless steel counter rather loudly, resulting in a resounding smack.
Fadel's face was a mask of pure nothingness as he looked up and saw it was Style. "We're not open yet," he deadpanned. "Why are you here?"
Style smiled. "Well, I wasn't going to come today. But a certain auntie told me a certain someone asked about me."
The look on Fadel's face was priceless, and while it was still nearly emotionless, the slight widening of his eyes told a lovely story. Style wanted to take a picture so he could keep that facial expression forever and always.
"Don't look so surprised," Style teased lightheartedly, feeling giddy. "You missed me, didn't you?
"Missed you, my ass," Fadel started, finally meeting Style's eyes. "You annoy the hell out of me. You mess up my routine."
Style visibly preened. "You have a way with words, Fadel. You make me blush. Admit it, you totally missed me."
Without a reply, Fadel sighed and continued prepping his greens. Style hummed and took his hands off of the counter, taking a small step back, running his eyes up and down Fadel's form. "Anyway, I'm just here to tell you that it doesn't matter how scary, how tough, or how grumpy you are, it doesn't matter because I'm hooked."
Okay, that made Fadel look back up at him. They both stared at each other for just a few seconds. He didn't say anything, though, and Style continued, even after Fadel went back to his preparations. Taking another step forward, he placed his hands on the counter again, the sound not as loud or as jarring as before.
"Hey, let me ask you something. What do I have to do to win you over?" He asked, hoping that Fadel would realize he's being serious and not joking around. As much as he wanted Kant's beautiful, beautiful car, he also wanted the beautiful, sexy creature that was Fadel.
Fadel's expression didn't change as his eyes flit towards Style once more, but his body was tense. Style knew that Fadel knew that he was serious. But, it seemed like the man was either going to ignore him or brush him off.
"Easy, get out of my face," Fadel replied, and while the words were harsh, the tone was softer than when he had first met the man, and that made a pleasant, warm feeling blossom in his chest.
"That's not possible, because I can't," Style said. His voice was low and breathy, and if he could see his reflection, he knew his gaze would be hooded. The look he was giving Fadel was practically screaming 'I want you.'
Fadel barely paused in his movement. Still, Style knew he had him. So much for getting the man to pine after him, but fuck it, the plan was stupid anyway.
Pushing himself away from the counter, Style walked around it to stand next to Fadel. He tensed a bit as Style wrapped an arm around him, his fingers seductively stroking his shoulder. "You just need a little nudge. You've already had a taste of me a few times, maybe you should have some more. A reminder."
He could hear Fadel inhale sharply—albeit it was quiet and barely noticeable—and he couldn't help the smirk that was threatening to pull at the corner of his mouth. He knew he was being a bit pushy, but Fadel had to know how badly he wanted him. He knew he'd probably be a little irritated after, but at least it'd get the message across.
"You don't know me," Fadel eventually sighed.
Style pressed in closer, his mouth inches away from the other's ear. "Maybe not, but I do know that you get turned on when I mess with you."
With that, Style took his chance, watching Fadel's face intently as he inched towards the man's crotch. At the first little brush, Style revelled in the way Fadel's face changed just slightly, and that was enough of a signal for him to continue.
Gripping Fadel roughly through his clothes didn't do much, but it did reward him with a inhale and a flutter of his eyes, which for Style, was good enough.
"I think you should bend me over," Style purred, his own arousal growing at the sight of Fadel slowly breaking. "Make me beg. Just like our first time."
He watched Fadel's face intently, and he saw the exact moment when the man's resolve broke. He wasn't sure what did it—if it was his words, the fact that Style had pressed his own arousal into his hip, or if he was just really desperate—but the moment Fadel's face changed, his eyes darkening and his jaw setting, was when Style's heart jumped.
Fadel set down the scissors he was using to cut the greens, and turned fully towards Style, their noses nearly touching, and Style almost fainted at the feeling of Fadel's hands coming to his waist, guiding Style to turn his back to the counter.
"Oh, are we going to do it in the kitchen again? I like it, that's sexy. I love a man who's a little kinky—"
"Shut up," Fadel growled, and the sound had Style's blood boiling pleasantly.
"Ooh, yeah, tell me what to do. Make me do what you want."
There was a few seconds where nothing happened, except for Fadel pushing against Style's shoulders, the pressure firm and hard, forcing him to lean back and onto the cold counter. Oh, this was hot. This was really hot.
Style was at a loss for words as the drag of Fadel's gloved hands brushed against his abdomen and sides, pushing his shirt up just a bit.
Fuck, Style wanted Fadel to ravish him, take him right there on the counter, the floor, the stoves, wherever, he didn't care, just as long as Fadel was touching him, kissing him, doing anything with him.
His eyes had already closed, enjoying the goosebumps Fadel's hands made in their wake. A soft gasp left his throat with the touch of— hey, is Fadel cutting his shirt open? Well, if Style was hard before, he was a leaking mess now.
And he nearly came when Fadel gripped the fabric in his hands and ripped it almost completely off of his body, the sound of the tearing cloth loud and filthy in the otherwise silent kitchen.
"Oh," was all he could utter.
Fadel's clothed chest brushed up against his, and fuck, the material was rough and felt so good, the texture scraping against his sensitive nipples.
"Are you going to make me beg?" Style whispered, his breathing already a bit labored, the anticipation and arousal already coiling in his gut. Lust rushed through his veins like fire, the feeling consuming him, and his mind was already beginning to haze over. "Or will you just give it to me? I hope you make me beg."
A breathy moan escaped him once Fadel's gloved hands found purchase on his hips, one trailing lower and lower and—
"Come on, sexy, give it to me—"
Style's breath hitched in his throat when Fadel's hand finally touched him, his palm grinding firmly and teasingly against the straining tent in his pants.
It was perfect, the feeling of Fadel's hand slowly touching him through his pants, the drag, the pressure, it was delicious.
"Mmmh, that's it, baby," Style breathed, his mouth parting as he watched Fadel through half-lidded eyes. "Touch me, show me how much you want me."
And he did, and it was amazing.
Until it wasn't.
The hand paused and Fadel leaned in just a bit closer. Style was about to protest but the man spoke before he could do anything.
"You won't ever get what you want."
Fadel pulled away, and Style's heart dropped down to his knees, suddenly feeling cold and empty.
"What?"
"Get out," Fadel said, and his voice was low and commanding and sexy, but the words weren't.
Style sat up, confused. Why the sudden change? Fadel clearly liked him back. They've fucked multiple times now. Why the cold treatment? Wasn't he just enjoying himself a few seconds ago?
"Hey! You can't just—"
"Leave, now."
With that, Style knew the mood was ruined. He had pushed too hard.
"Fine," Style grumbled, pushing himself off of the counter. Fadel's eyes followed him as he fixed his pants. Without another word, Style turned on his heel and began marching out, a pout already pulling at his lips, his ruined shirt now flapping around uselessly, the cool air tickling his exposed skin.
He walked out of the kitchen, feeling more than a little irritated. But Style didn't let that stop him. Instead, a sly idea came to mind.
Fadel wanted to play this little game? Well, Style would play, too. And he'd win, of course.
Heart Burger was busy. This was Style's opportunity. Perhaps a bit of threatening will persuade Fadel to finally admit his feelings and just fucking go out with him already.
He walked into the restaurant, his ruined shirt long gone, because why bother wearing it? He knew he looked sexy shirtless. He settled himself into a chair and waited.
A nearby woman sitting at a booth gave him a curious look, which Style caught almost immediately. He gave her a forlorn look, which was completely fake, and said, "I got my heart broken, can you believe it? And here I am, still trying to get the man who broke it."
A few other nearby customers looked over at the sound of his voice, listening in but trying not to seem too obvious about it.
She seemed surprised at the news. "Oh, you poor thing. I'm sorry."
Style shrugged, and that's when Fadel emerged from the kitchen and dropped food off at a table a few feet away. Style perked up, waiting for Fadel to turn around and notice him.
The moment Fadel made eye contact with him, Style felt a thrill go up his spine. The stare was completely annoyed, but beyond sexy. His dark eyes were intense, his brows furrowed, and the way he seemed to scowl had Style's blood heating. He made a beeline towards Style.
"Why are you still here?"
Oh, was that a little bit of a growl? That was nice. Style should stand up and push him against the wall and let him growl into his mouth instead.
"What?" Style asked innocently, loudly. "Am I not allowed to be here? What are you gonna do? Make me leave in front of all these good people?"
The people sitting at the nearby table had stopped their eating, their food and drinks forgotten as they stared at them, waiting to see what would happen.
Fadel's eyes flicked around, and Style had to fight back a triumphant grin.
"Go ahead," Style challenged, sweeping an arm out, gesturing at the entire restaurant. "Then they will post about it online, and your restaurant will be ruined."
The only implication that Fadel was seriously contemplating kicking Style out was the twitch of his jaw.
"Or, would you rather give me what I want. We can have a repeat of yesterday at the club, if you want. In fact, I think we should start an OnlyFans together, so that you have some cash flow since this place is failing so badly. We could even do a deal: for every new subscriber, they'll get a free meal."
The customers nearby gave him a horrified look, and Style could see the way Fadel's eye twitched. He was definitely losing his patience.
"What? No?" Style asked, leaning forward, resting his chin on his fist, gazing at Fadel almost coyly. "Or, maybe, we should take it a step further, and do something in front of everyone, show them a good time."
Fadel looked absolutely furious—as furious as the stoic man could be, anyway—The tension in his shoulders was tight and coiled, and his jaw was clenched. A few beats passed between them before Fadel finally spoke lowly, between him and Style only.
"Put on a shirt, and leave."
Style huffed. Loudly. Sassily. And spoke even louder.
"How can I? You tore it up."
Fadel responded by throwing his apron at Style. Style huffed again, miffed his plan didn't seem to be working. Who was he kidding, though? It was a terrible idea. He needed to rethink his strategy.
But, he would admit, it was pretty funny. And the way Fadel's eyes kept flicking downwards and catching on his exposed chest and stomach, and the way his eyes darkened just slightly had him feeling a little more confident.
"Fine," he relented, standing up and getting into Fadel's personal space. "I won't ruin your career. Just know that nobody gets to nail and bail me."
Yes, it was a terrible line. But, it got the job done, because he saw the way Fadel's nostrils flared.
"I'll be the first."
Oh. Well. That was fucking rude.
"Okay, you know what," Style started, and the woman at the booth across from him had her phone out and ready to record. "Never mind."
Now Style was feeling more than a bit petty. He figured he should leave with a little flair, now, after that comment. So, he did.
He walked slowly out of the restaurant, his tone loud and sassy, and his voice clear.
"Feel free to take photos, everyone. Don't forget to get my good side. Which is all of me, by the way. Come on guys, let's run this place to the ground. Hashtag Heart Burger bad service."
And he left, his ego bruised just slightly, but the push just made him want Fadel even more.
Well, judging by the way Fadel was dragging him out of his loss support group, Style knew he'd fucked up. He wasn't entirely sure why he was getting dragged out and thrown unceremoniously into the passenger seat of Fadel's car, but he couldn't say he wasn't a little turned on by it either.
Sure, the story about his dead dog wasn't the greatest thing he'd come up with, but he was being truthful when he announced how heartbroken he was with being used and then thrown away like a piece of trash. It's not like he had said anything to hint that it was Fadel who broke his heart, but he figured that since he was looking at the man while speaking, the other support group goers had put two and two together.
Well, if Fadel was going to murder him because of this little stunt, then Style would at least die happy.
Fadel had seemed actually pretty angry that Style somehow knew about his support group. But Style is an innocent man, truly, he has no idea how the location got into his phone, or why he went completely out of his way to go there. Maybe it was a coincidence. Yeah, that's definitely it.
The drive was long and Style couldn't help the way his mind began to wander. He hoped whatever was about to happen would end up with him and Fadel having sex. Hate sex, love making, passionate, dirty, disgusting sex, he didn't care as long as Fadel's dick was in him.
"I—" he tried after a bit of the awkward silence, but Fadel cut him off with a fierce glare, which had him shutting up and looking out the window instead.
The car stopped outside an abandoned building, the place a little dilapidated, but not so much that it was dangerous to enter. It was definitely an odd choice, but Style couldn't deny the thrill of excitement that went through him at the thought of possibly getting it on in an abandoned building.
Fadel's previous words before he dragged Style out to his car echoed around in his head "I'm shutting you up" and while it was completely sexy and hot, a little part of him was screaming "danger!" Because he didn't really know Fadel. He could be a serial killer for all he knew.
That shouldn't have made him hard, but it did.
When the car was turned off, Fadel got out without a word and slammed his door. Furrowing his brow, Style got out, closing the door with a quieter click, watching as Fadel began walking towards the warehouse.
"What are we doing here? Oh— the silent treatment, I get it. Are we gonna fuck? Or are you gonna kill me and bury my body here?"
No response. Fadel continued walking until he was just a distant blur.
"Is that a yes to both? Or neither? Both is good, by the way, I'm flattered you want to kill me. But, also, no."
Nothing.
Well then.
Style waited a few minutes, and when Fadel didn't come back, he made his way begrudgingly to the warehouse.
"Fadel," he called out as he got inside, his voice echoing just slightly, his footsteps almost too loud. "If you're going to kill me, I don't mind, but I would at least like a heads up."
There was no response.
"Okay, fine. Don't talk. That's okay. I can keep the conversation going."
And Style did.
"You know, if you don't come out, I'm stealing your car. And don't think I can't do that just 'cause I don't have the key, I know how to hotwire cars."
When there was still no response, he tried again.
"So, I'm here. Wherever here is. Now what? Is this a murder mystery kind of thing, are we playing hide and seek? Ooh— are you stripping and getting into a sexy outfit right now? If I can make a suggestion, go with something leather, you'd look good in it."
Nothing.
"Okay, are you going to be silent forever, because I can be silent, too."
And that was a lie, because the next thing Style said was, "okay, I can't."
Luckily, Style didn't have to talk to himself for too much longer, because there was a hand grabbing his shirt and suddenly there was Fadel, up in his face, his brows furrowed in a deep frown.
"I don't like you messing up my life," he started, his tone angry but also not, somehow. "My life has been planned out, and you're disrupting it."
Style was silent, eyes wide as he watched the other, his heart jumping into his throat.
"I don't like feeling this way around you or the fact that I miss you when you're not there when I'm jogging or at the market. I don't like the fact I wait for you to show up at my restaurant everyday."
Fadel paused, his hold on Style's shirt tightening just slightly. "Shit, you—" he cut himself off with a deep sigh. Style was a little scared, if he was being honest, because he'd never seen this much emotion flash across the man's face. He was always so stoic, but now...
"I don't like you being in my life and just changing it," Fadel continued, his voice lowering. "I hate it."
There was a palpable tension between them that Style could practically taste. This was it. This was the confession. Style knew it. Boyfriend and car here he comes.
"I don't like that I miss you." Fadel's tone was the softest Style's ever heard. He was going to faint, he just knew it. His heart was racing, his pulse pounding loudly in his ears.
"I don't like you being annoying, and cocky, and obnoxious."
Okay, this wasn't sounding like a confession anymore.
"But, I want you."
And, fuck, there it was.
"I want you, and I hate that."
Wait.
"I hate wanting you."
Style was elated, his heart flutter happily in his chest, and the next words he spoke tumbled from his mouth before he even finished thinking of them. "It's okay if you like me."
A brief flash of something passed over Fadel's face, and Style didn't have time to dwell on it because suddenly, Fadel was kissing him, and his hands were falling to Style's waist in a fierce grip. It was a desperate, hard kiss, full of lust and heat and finally want.
It had to have been the way Fadel practically confessed to him, the vulnerability, the emotion, the way his expression had changed from angry to vulnerable, because the way he kissed him with so much feeling had Style weak in the knees, a whine already crawling its way up his throat.
His fingers were fumbling, trying to find purchase somewhere on Fadel, but the man was pushing him backwards and his hands were all over his body as if they couldn't decide on where to stay, and oh God, they were actually going to do it again, and this time, Fadel actually liked him back.
Style settled on wrapping his arms around Fadel's neck desperately, letting their passionate kiss turn into something more. Their kiss was frenzied, each trying to pour their emotions into it, and it was messy and more than a little wet, but Style was loving it.
They both turned frantic, and Style almost passed out as Fadel hurriedly took off—practically ripped—Style's overshirt, letting the cloth fall onto the dusty concrete floor. Desire ripped through Style like a bolt of lightning, the sound of the cloth hitting the floor was more like a gunshot than anything. The anticipation was thick and hot, and Style didn't even care they were about to have sex on the cold, hard ground, because the only thing that mattered was that Fadel wanted him and was finally giving in.
It didn't matter that they had had sex several times now, as it wasn't about Fadel giving in for sex. It was about him giving in to his heart.
Fadel's overshirt was next, falling to the ground. They were still kissing, their mouths moving feverishly, their tongues sliding together, and Style was absolutely losing it, his cock already beginning to strain in his pants. He couldn't help the small, quiet, desperate whimpers that unwittingly escaped his throat, the little noises muffled by Fadel's lips.
Fadel was breathing harshly through his nose, his hold tight and his fingers gripping tightly at Style's hips, almost as if he was scared of letting him go, as if Style would ever willingly leave.
They moved in sync, pressing their bodies together, their hips aligning and moving in tandem, and the delicious friction was just exhilarating. It was as if they were both dancing a similar provocative dance. The feeling was intoxicating, their movements fluid and seemingly practiced.
Fadel only pulled away to huff out a hot breath against Style's mouth, their kiss breaking with a wet smack, their heavy breaths mingling between them. They stood there for a few moments, the sound of their harsh breathing filling the otherwise quiet room. Style's chest was heaving, his lungs working hard to try and get air in. His skin was flushed and his eyes were dark and his pupils were blown, and the sight of Fadel in the same state was a beautiful and glorious sight.
For the first time, Style was speechless. There were no words, and although his brain was running a mile a minute, he didn't feel the need to utter a single sound. He leaned back in and captured Fadel's lips in another sensual kiss.
He couldn't get enough. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to.
Fadel was kissing him back just as passionately, and that alone made Style's cock twitch, the heat pooling low in his stomach. Sparks of pleasure raced up and down his spine with every move of their mouths and tongues and hips. It was perfect and so, so hot, and it left Style wanting more, wanting all of Fadel.
They kissed and touched and grinded against each other until their breathing was becoming too erratic, and Style couldn't take it anymore.
Without breaking the kiss, Style forcefully reached a hand between their bodies, and since they were so close it was a little hard. He deftly undid Fadel's belt and unzipped his pants just enough so that he could reach in and grip his cock, stroking the hot, hard flesh teasingly.
There was a low rumble in Fadel's chest, and Style reveled in the sound, the feeling of the noise sending a pleasant thrill up his spine.
He could barely move his arm, his movement hindered, but he couldn't complain, not when Fadel was nipping at his lips and rutting against him as if his life depended on it. Not when he pulled away to heave a breath of air and look at Style with pupil-blown eyes, his lips parted and glistening, and oh— fuck, he looked so good.
Styled worked his hand as best he could, and the way Fadel's breath would hitch just slightly when he'd rub his thumb teasingly along the slit, or the way he would grunt softly, the sound almost non-existent. Then he would tighten his grip, and listen as his breath hitched in his throat. Fuck— the low sounds from Fadel's panting mouth was doing so much for Style. The sight of him was amazing, and the knowledge that Fadel was enjoying his touch, that he liked it, wanted it, was exhilarating.
They were grinding against each other desperately, Fadel using the hands on Style's hips to bring them impossibly closer. Style jerked Fadel slowly, the movement a little awkward, but it didn't matter. Style couldn't get enough of the pure feeling erupting in his chest. It was warm and tingling down to his toes.
With each brush against his arousal, Style let out a soft breath, too focused on the slick slide of his fist to focus on his own building pleasure. His eyes were locked onto Fadel's face, and the man's own gaze was heated, and the intensity of his eyes on him had Style's head spinning.
His wrist was starting to cramp up, and it was getting a little too hard to move his hand, so he pulled away. He let his arms wind around Fadel's neck again, pulling him in, kissing him hard and deep, his mouth already open and inviting.
Now that Style's arm wasn't in the way, Fadel used the new space to grind languidly against Style. Hands trailed from Style's waist to grip instead at his ass, bringing him even closer, and the sensation of the hot, hard length rubbing against his own had him seeing stars.
The air was heavy with their labored breathing, and the slick, filthy sound of their clothes rustling as they ground against each other had Style's skin prickling, his stomach clenching with arousal.
They were panting into each other's mouths, their breaths coming in harsh gasps, and Fadel's movements were beginning to become jerky, the rhythm of their rutting beginning to stutter. Style felt like he was coming apart at the seams, and judging by the way Fadel's movements were becoming just a bit more frantic, and the way his hands were gripping his ass almost painfully, Fadel was nearing his end as well.
A low groan left Fadel's mouth, and the sound was so deep and erotic, and it was everything Style had ever wanted. A whine crawled up his throat, the sound muffled as Fadel kissed him deeply.
While Style was one to make as much noise as possible, moaning and sighing at every little opportunity, somehow, this one time was different. The only sounds now coming from either of them was the frantic rustle of their clothes, the quiet smacking of their lips, and their panting. It was oddly satisfying, the feeling of just the two of them, the world around them nonexistent. And it was enough. Although he felt a moan bubbling up in his throat, he didn't feel the need to let it out. At least not yet, anyway.
The air was charged with so much lust and heat and sexual tension, Style knew he wouldn't last long. It was the feeling of the way Fadel's tongue was gliding against his, the way their clothed cocks were brushing against each other, the way Fadel was gripping his ass almost possessively. It was everything.
It wasn't long until Style felt the familiar tightness coiling in his gut, and the fire spreading throughout his abdomen. The words couldn't form on his tongue to warn Fadel, and either way his mouth was preoccupied, so he opted for squeezing his eyes shut tightly, gripping Fadel's neck just a little tighter. He barely kissed back at that point, and decided instead to pant openly against Fadel's wet lips who thankfully took the lead.
He was close to coming, so close. He teetered on the edge for what felt like an eternity, the press of their hips was just too good. The tightness coiled more and more until, fuck—
And by God, he did. He came, and it was glorious.
It was white-hot pleasure coursing through his veins, and it was good enough that Style couldn't hold in his noises anymore, so he let of a breathy, drawn out high-pitched whine right into Fadel's mouth, and he was gone.
A few seconds passed, and Style could feel Fadel's body shaking just slightly, his breath uneven. He could feel the dampness seeping through his underwear, and his skin was sticky and hot. But the euphoric high he was riding made it all worth it.
Once he regained his composure, he pulled away just slightly, and the look on Fadel's face was one he wanted to see again and again. It was a look of pure relaxed euphoria. His eyes were glazed over and his hair mussed. Style could just see the slightest bit of drool clinging to the corner of his mouth. Style wanted to lean in and lick it off.
Shit. He was so down bad for this man, it wasn't even funny.
Fadel's hands slid up from Style's ass and pulled him in close by his shoulders, and Style let himself be embraced with wide eyes. Fadel's chest was heaving against his, and the way his breath was ghosting across the shell of his ear was enough to send goosebumps down his arms.
They stayed like that for a few minutes. The silence was comfortable and nice, the only sound being their breathing evening out. Style couldn't help the giddy smile that was pulling at his lips.
He had an urge to say something, but knowing him, the moment would be ruined, and Style didn't want that. Not after they'd had such a wonderful and intimate experience together.
This time was absolutely different than their other times. Fadel never hugged him like this before. It made him feel warm and fuzzy. He wondered what made Fadel finally break.
When Fadel pulled away, he stared straight at Style with an intense gaze. Style didn't know what was going on behind his dark eyes, but it seemed as though the man was thinking.
And, apparently, his mind was made up, because the next thing Style knew, he was being kissed again, but his legs felt like jello, so the moment Fadel pressed in, Style fell back, taking Fadel with him.
They both narrowly missed the bars of metal that were directly behind them, and landed hard on the ground. The concrete was cold and rough, and it wasn't exactly the most ideal place to have sex. But, Style figured, he'd had worse. And while yesterday was probably the most comfortable place he'd had sex, and he'd give anything to get in an actual bed with Fadel, the thought of Fadel taking him here was almost enough to get him hard again.
It took them a few moments to recover, the surprise of their fall making them both dazed. When they came back to, Style was grinning, back against the cold ground and Fadel was glaring, his expression almost murderous as he held himself up by his arms on either side of Style's head.
"Are you trying to kill us?" Fadel muttered, his tone a mix between irritated and annoyed, but there was also a hint of amusement, and it made Style's heart do flips in his chest.
"No, but I'd love to get on my knees and suck you dry, though."
Style watched Fadel's adam's apple bob, and the way he swallowed hard and glanced away, annoyed, was so alluring, but also so damn funny. The man could get his rocks off and then act like nothing had even happened. It was a weird quirk, but one Style could definitely appreciate.
"Shut up," was all Fadel said.
"Kiss me again and I will," Style challenged, a smirk pulling at his lips.
Fadel rolled his eyes, but the look on his face was soft. And the way he leaned down and pressed their lips together, the action soft and sensual. Style couldn't help the small, happy hum that escaped him.
Fadel pulled away and sat up, his expression blank. "Get up, we're leaving."
Style immediately frowned. "What? No abandoned warehouse sex? I'm disappointed, honestly. We can do it in your car. Or, better yet, my place."
Fadel just leaned back and stood, offering a hand.
"Not even another quickie?" Style tried.
"No," Fadel replied.
"How about a blowjob? Another handy? You could bend me over this railing and rail me."
Fadel just turned on his heel and walked away in the direction out of the warehouse, his footsteps echoing loudly.
Style grumbled to himself, happy, but left wanting more. He was so sure that Fadel would have fucked him into the ground. That's okay, though, he thought. The night was still young.
They had cleaned themselves up the best that they could. While Style still felt a bit sticky, it was worth it. They were leaned against the front of Fadel's car, the silence between them amicable. They were close, their arms lightly touching.
"What are we?" Style asked, breaking the silence.
Fadel hummed. "What?"
Style huffed. "We fucked multiple times now. Like, a lot. I've lost count. So, I think it's time we make it official. Let's be boyfriends."
There was no immediate answer, but Fadel did huff out a small laugh, and— oh, he smiled. That was a smile. Style was stunned. He didn't know how to react.
"Why would you want that?" Fadel asked, schooling his face back into the neutral expression Style had become accustomed to. Style stared, wanting to see Fadel smile for forever. If he had some warning, he absolutely would have taken a picture.
"You know why," Style replied, still slightly stunned. "You're mysterious. Alluring. Sexy. A little cold and a bit mean, but also very handsome. And I've seen your dick, so. You know. We're perfect for each other."
Another small smile graced Fadel's lips, and Style was about ready to combust.
"And what if I don't want a boyfriend?" Fadel asked, his eyes on the sky, watching the stars.
"That's too bad," Style answered, his tone light and teasing. "You're stuck with me now. I'm not giving you up. I want you. Bad. I'm persistent. I won't give up until we're dating."
Fadel sighed out of his nose, not annoyed, just... "I know."
Style spoke again, his tone soft, and Fadel looked back towards him. "Besides, how could you say all of that and then not want me. Do you like me, or not? Because I'm pretty sure you do."
A few beats of silence passed by, and all Style could hear were the crickets and the quiet breeze.
"Come on. Be my boyfriend. Give me a chance."
There was that little smile again. All it took was the slightest upturn of Fadel's lips, and Style's heart was fluttering haphazardly.
"You don't even know me," Fadel murmured, his tone almost playful.
Style's own lips twitched. "Who cares? I'll learn more about you when we're boyfriends."
It was silent again, and Style's heart was racing. His fingers were twitching, and he really hoped Fadel would say yes. It wasn't just about the car anymore. Now, he wanted more.
More than the sex, more than the teasing, he wanted the intimacy. The closeness. The vulnerability. It was addicting being so close to Fadel. Being able to slowly figure him out and get to know him was a thrill, and Style didn't want to let that go.
Fadel mulled over Style's words, and Style practically held his breath in anticipation. He nearly evaporated at the sight and sound of Fadel laughing softly. It was a quick little laugh, but a laugh nonetheless that shone through the darkness and lit him up.
This much emotion from Fadel all in one night was astounding. Style could hardly believe it. He wasn't used to seeing Fadel express himself so much, and he didn't think he'd ever get over the feeling that was blossoming in his chest.
"Fine," Fadel finally said.
One blink. Two blinks. What?
"Huh?" was all he could utter.
And while Style was looking directly at him, supposedly listening intently, the moment Fadel said that word, Style's brain shut down, and he was sure his jaw was on the floor.
Fadel rolled his eyes.
"I'll be your boyfriend."
Style's brain was fried. The gears in his mind were turning, the words were processing, and his heart was hammering against his rib cage like it was trying to escape.
"Really?" he asked, feeling more than a little breathless.
The smile was back, and oh, Style loved it. Fuck, he loved it so much. He could stare at that smile for hours and never get bored.
"Yeah," Fadel confirmed, the single word full of what had to be fondness.
A surge of adrenaline rushed through him, and without a second thought, Style leaned in, placing his hands lightly onto Fadel's face and the back of his neck, and began littering kisses everywhere, his lips smacking against Fadel's cheek, his temple, his jaw. Anywhere. And maybe later he could convince Fadel to let him kiss him in other places.
Fadel huffed, but let it happen. He didn't lean into the touches, but didn't push Style away, either. He just stood there, letting Style press wet, quick kisses all over his face, and if the grip on his neck and face was uncomfortable, he didn't say anything.
Eventually, Style stopped, and the only reason he did was because his heart was fluttering with so much joy and exhilaration, he was certain he'd pass out if he didn't calm down.
He kept one arm around Fadel's shoulders, looking at him with the biggest grin on his face, and Style thought Fadel's eyes softened just a bit. The smile was gone, but his expression was less stony and more open, and that was enough for Style.
Well, actually, it wasn't. He would have liked the smile to stay. But, beggars can't be choosers, and all that.
He wasn't exactly sure why Fadel had finally given in, and he was sure there would be some things to work out, like the fact that they're still basically strangers, or that their personalities are a bit too different, and maybe Style can be a little pushy, but.
They'd figure it out.
