Archive of Our Own

Contentment and bliss was all Style knew.

He was floating in that dreamlike state of being half-awake and half-asleep. It was calming, and even though his ass throbbed from the previous night, it was worth it. 

Fadel was honest with him, and even though it made Style guilty, because he wasn't totally being one hundred percent honest himself, it was a step closer. He desperately wanted Fadel to quit being a hitman. He didn't know what it would take, but he hoped that the man would just stop before he found out that Style knew.

The bed shifted, and he distantly felt a hand on his knee. The touch was like fire, burning across his skin in a slow trail. He hummed, smiling in his half-conscious state. It had been a long time since he slept next to anyone. He forgot how cozy it was, and the fact it was Fadel made it just that much more better.

His right hand was behind his head as he laid boneless on his back, his left one resting limply against his stomach.

"Style," came Fadel's voice. It was thick with sleep, and all Style wanted to do was to pull the man back down into the sheets and sleep the day away. "Wake up"

Style frowned lightly, squirming a bit to get more comfortable. "No. 'm tired," he mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed. He heard Fadel blow air out of his nose in amusement, then the bed shifted once more as the other man moved closer to him.

He could feel Fadel's stare on his face. It made him feel butterflies in his stomach. "Come on, wake up." 

Style just hummed noncommittally, and Fadel sighed. His hand moved from Style's knee, traveling down to his inner thigh, absentmindedly rubbing the warm skin there.

"I told you to set an alarm last night. We've slept in too much," Fadel murmured. Style could feel his eyes move all over him, and it was like Fadel was touching him with his gaze alone.

At that, Style finally opened his eyes, blinking away the drowsiness that threatened to take him under again. Fadel was close, practically hovering over him, his upper body propped up by his elbow. He looked amazingly sexy.

"Well," Style started, giving Fadel a quick once over with his eyes. "I was a bit preoccupied. You really did a number on me." He smiled lazily, shifting his leg so that it pressed into the hand that was on his thigh. The action made him wince though, so he resorted to stretching languidly, trying to ease the ache in his muscles.

"Ow— everything is sore. I don't wanna go to work today," Style groaned. He was exaggerating, but not by much. He really didn't want to go to the garage. He'd much rather spend the day in bed with his hot ass hitman—he seriously needed to stop thinking about that—boyfriend.

Style paused in his stretching as he felt Fadel remove the hand on his thigh just for his finger to gently begin to brush away the sleep from the corners of his eyes. The gesture was so sweet it had Style's heart fluttering.

"You're so dramatic," Fadel said, moving to trace the outline of his lips. "We had a good night's rest."

Style hummed at the touch, opening his mouth a bit to nip at the man's fingertips. The way Fadel let out another small breath of amusement at that made him shiver in delight.

"Mm," was all Style said in response to Fadel's statement. His eyes flitted over Fadel's relaxed face, drinking in the sight of a still-sleepy Fadel. He was slowly waking, and with that, he realized just how close Fadel was to him. Fadel moved his hand back down to Style's thigh, where it rested precariously close to his crotch, the heat tantalizing. The morning light filtered through his window, highlighting the angles of Fadel's god-like face. 

Mesmerized, Style happily let Fadel switch his position, now hovering over him with both hands pressed on either side of his head, a knee in between Style's spread legs.

"You know," Fadel began, his voice in a low purr. Oh, Style definitely liked where this was going. Fuck the aching in his body, and fuck work. He just wanted the man above him to press him down into the mattress and fuck him senseless. "They say we should hit it right where it hurts."

Style stared up at Fadel, a light, playful smile adorning his lips. Fadel continued.

"It's like exercising. That's how your body builds stronger muscles."

Okay, Fadel, you little sweet-talker. Style caught on pretty fast to what Fadel was insinuating and he found himself getting excited. Play it cool, Style.

"Thanks for the trivia," he snarked. "But why are you telling me this?"

Fadel leaned in closer. Fuck, Style was already half-hard, and it was only from the close proximity. Fadel's breath fanned across his lips, making his eyelids flutter. His own breathing began to quicken, and he subconsciously widened his legs to accommodate Fadel's knee.

"You should exercise daily."

Style played dumb and quirked a questioning eyebrow at Fadel, humming.

"I'm saying we should work out that soreness."

Well, that was straight to the point. And Style was not complaining. At all. Fadel's tone was suggestive, and his dark eyes were half lidded in obvious lust. His knee was pressed against Style's half-hard cock, and the contact had him squirming in anticipation.

Style decided to waste no more time, beginning to lift his head to meet Fadel in a kiss. But before he could, Fadel was already on him, capturing his lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It had Style's mind spinning happily.

There wasn't a sense of urgency in their kiss. It was all languid movements of lips, tongues meeting briefly and breath mingling together in hot, soft exhales.

The kiss didn't last long, and with one last soft peck to Style's lips, Fadel began to trail his mouth along Style's jaw, kissing and nipping at the warm skin there. He stopped at Style's neck, and after nosing at crook of it for just a moment, he began to lazily leave a love bite.

Style's cock was now fully hard, and he couldn't help the little sigh that escaped him at the feeling of Fadel's teeth scraping against his sensitive neck. His hips twitched, and his left hand moved up to tangle in Fadel's hair.

Humming in satisfaction, Style turned his head, letting Fadel have as much access as possible, absolutely enjoying the way Fadel's hot mouth worked at the skin of his neck. The bruises from the other day were gone, which left him a little forlorn. Maybe Fadel would put his hands on his neck, again. Just maybe. Hopefully.

A small kiss against his heated neck had goosebumps rising along the skin, a shiver wracking through his body. Fadel must have noticed, because he could feel the little smile against his throat before Fadel was licking a hot stripe right along his pulse point.

Style gasped, his hips jerking up. His hand tightened in Fadel's hair, and the soft grunt he received was enough to make his cock jump. Fuck, Fadel was such a damn tease.

Style felt the man shift, his knee pulling away and his hands moving from where they rested against the mattress. Style let out a dejected whine, but let his hand fall from Fadel's hair to land onto the bed with a quiet thump.

Fadel had shifted to settle between his legs fully, and Style immediately lifted his knees up to hook his feet behind Fadel's lower back, opening himself more for him; an invitation, and an enticing one at that.

"Fuck," he whispered, when Fadel rolled his hips against him, their clothed cocks sliding against each other deliciously. The drag was slow and almost torturous, and it made his mind hazy. All he could think of was how much he wanted Fadel to just rip off his underwear and fuck him into the bed, fast and hard. Yet, at the same time, he was enjoying this soft side of Fadel. Though Fadel was definitely a fan of fast and hard, he seemed to have just a bit more self control than Style. The juxtaposition between the two sides of Fadel had Style reeling.

A soft sigh left him, his head rolling to the side at another lazy grind. He could hear Fadel's breathing grow heavy with every passing second. The pace was languid, and it had his toes curling and his mouth parting open with little breathy moans.

"Fadel," Style breathed. His hips rolled in time with the man on top of him, chasing after that sweet friction. He could feel the hot puffs of air on his neck as Fadel panted against his skin. "Fadel."

A grunt, followed by a desperate pant was all he got, but it was enough, because, fuck— that was hot. Style was already so gone. He couldn't think straight, couldn't even remember what he was about to say, but all that mattered was Fadel and the way his body was covering him, grinding down against him, and just taking over all his senses. Fadel, Fadel, Fadel. That was the only thing he knew.

"Mh— F-Fadel—" was all Style could get out, the tone breathy and high. He wanted his hands on Fadel, but the moment he slid his arm out from underneath his head and began reaching out with both hands, Fadel was grabbing them and pinning them to the bed, one hand on either side of his head. His grip was firm and tight, just how Style liked it, and it made him moan softly.

"Ooh— sexy, kinky, what's next?" he breathed with a little laugh, his back arching a bit. His legs were spread obscenely wide, and with Fadel's body in between them, still slowly grinding their hips together. His cock was straining against the confines of his underwear, profusely leaking precome, the feeling sticky and warm and oh so pleasant. He was already close, just from a little grinding, but that was probably due to the fact that they'd had some of the most mind blowing sex just the previous night, and his mind was happily replaying the event as if to remind him that Fadel knew just how to please him. And fuck— did Style want to be pleased.

"You talk too much," Fadel murmured. Style felt Fadel's tongue slide over his neck and into the dip of his clavicle. He felt Fadel shift a little, pulling back just slightly, then felt the soft drag of a finger as the man slowly and teasingly slid it up Style's heaving and sweaty chest, making a point to trace around his nipple, the lightest of touches. The sensation made Style whimper, his head throwing back onto the pillows with his eyes squeezed shut. Fadel should be thanking him, actually, because this was considered a quiet Style, thank you very much. He wanted to voice that, but he decided against it. Instead he focused on breathing evenly, and trying not to lose it.

"You should know that by now," he ended up saying after a few more moments of Fadel teasing him. It was breathy, but there was an amused lilt to his words.

"Mh," Fadel hummed. His lips trailed from the base of Style's throat up to his ear. Style was panting heavily now, trying to grind up onto Fadel, wanting to get closer, needing to get closer. His hands flexed in Fadel's grip, but he didn't pull away, enjoying the feeling of being restrained.

Then, Fadel's teeth bit gently at the cartilage and Style couldn't stop the high keen that left him, his hips unconsciously stuttering at the new sensation. His hands instinctively flexed in Fadel's unrelenting grip, but he loved the way Fadel just squeezed harder in response. His heart was fluttering in his chest, and he felt Fadel's tongue begin to trace the outline of his ear. It had his face heating up in a blush, and a full bodied tremble racking through him. His thighs were shaking from being held open, and it was starting to become unbearable.

"F-Fadel," he panted, turning his head away from Fadel's mouth to escape from that sinful tongue. He needed a moment to breathe, because Fadel was really doing a number on him. If he had the strength, though, he'd flip their positions so he could rip off Fadel's underwear with his teeth and ride him with reckless abandon.

The movement of their hips stuttered to a halt. Fadel's mouth was still right next to Style's ear, but he had stopped moving. He was just panting, breathing harshly, obviously as turned on as Style. The only movement between them was their heaving chests and Fadel's thumb gently caressing Style's inner wrist.

Style whined, high-pitched and desperate. "Come on," he whispered. He didn't care if he sounded like a brat—he absolutely was one, though—he wanted more, needed more, and he was going to get it.

"What do you want?" was Fadel's simple, teasing reply.

Style rolled his hips up, testing the waters. Fadel's hips twitched, but didn't reciprocate, and he grunted low in his throat, miffed.

"Fadel, I swear, if you don't—"

"What? What will you do?" Fadel interrupted. Style was at a loss, his brain not able to form words, his mind foggy with a delirious lust. What could he say? He wouldn't do anything. Fadel knew he had all the power, and he knew it. It was a known fact that Style loved being manhandled and pinned down and told what to do and— oh. He didn't know what to do. While Style was really good at taking the reigns—power bottom, much?—right now, he couldn't. Fadel was so sexy when he took charge. He wasn't complaining.

But, seriously. Get on with it, Fadel. Style was horny and ready to be dicked down.

He whined miserably once more, wiggling his hands and rolling his hips again in an effort to spur Fadel on. It worked this time. Fadel huffed out a tiny amused laugh and leaned back, his eyes trailing from Style's disheveled hair and flushed face, to his heaving chest, to his hips, and lower, where their bodies met.

The laugh brought Style back from some of his brain fog, and he couldn't stop the grin that formed. Fadel was always serious and stone faced, so any little laugh or smile he gave Style made Style feel a certain way that had his chest buzzing happily. He met Fadel's eyes and gave him a sultry look, rolling his hips again, which had Fadel's eyes fluttering so beautifully. What a sexy man. It didn't matter how many times Style said it, he wanted to scream it from the rooftops, let everyone know just how hot his boyfriend was.

"Gonna make me come, huh? Just like this?" Style purred breathily, staring up into Fadel's heated eyes. Fadel stared back for just a beat longer, before leaning in close, and finally letting go of Style's hands to instead grab his waist, his fingers pressing in harshly.

"Fuck—" Style gasped. He was definitely leaving hand prints, and Style was not complaining. In fact, he wanted Fadel to press into his skin harder, just so the marks would stay a few extra days.

"Yeah. Just like this," was Fadel's reply, low and rumbling, sending a full bodied shiver through Style. 

Fuck. Alrighty, then. Style was on board. More than on board, actually. 

Then they were moving again. It was slow at first, a gradual roll, a slow grind. Style had to bite his bottom lip to keep in a groan. The feeling of his cock dragging against the confines of his underwear was the perfect amount of pressure. He could feel it everywhere, the sparks of desire in the tips of his fingers and toes. His eyes slid shut as he lost himself in the pleasure.

It wasn't long before Style was a whining, whimpering mess. He was still a little sleepy, and that was evident in the way his hands gripped onto Fadel like a lifeline, and the way he didn't say much. He let out small, pleased sighs and breathy moans that were muffled when he buried his flushed face in Fadel's neck.

The pace was steady and slow, but hard. Fadel would roll his hips forward with a forceful push, grinding his covered cock against Style's with just the right amount of pressure, before slowly pulling back.

"Mhh—" Style whined through closed lips, his thighs shaking as he spread his legs just a little further. He was close, and could feel the coiling pleasure deep within him, like a string that just needed one final pluck. It was hot and tight in his gut, and with each slow, drawn out drag of their bodies against each other, it just wound tighter, growing hotter by the second. "Close."

The word was mumbled, and it was more of an incoherent slur than anything else. His voice was high and taut, his entire body trembling. He couldn't stop himself from rutting up into the grind of Fadel's hips, his hands tightening around Fadel's broad and sweaty back.

A shiver wracked through Style as he let out a breathless gasp of Fadel's name desperately, his hands clutching around Fadel's neck, probably suffocating him, but that was far from his mind. All that was there, was Fadel. His grip was slippery from his damp palms, but he clung on tight nonetheless.

Fadel's face was shoved into the crook of Style's neck, biting, and dear god, Style was absolutely going feral from this. The sharp, pleasurable sting from Fadel's teeth against the sensitive skin of his neck, combined with the unrelenting grind of their clothed arousals had him trying to chase that tight feeling in his gut.

Fadel panted wetly against Style's neck between his bites and little kitten licks, and fuck if Style wasn't going crazy. The way his breathing hitched and stuttered had Style's body reacting on its own accord, pressing up into the man above him with shaky, unsteady thrusts, his hands gripping him impossibly harder. Fadel was definitely going to have some bruises, and Style couldn't wait to trace his fingers along the red marks. The only thing missing was a nice handprint on his own throat and a face covered in Fadel's cum, and it would have been a dream come true.

"A-ah, fuck—" he moaned breathlessly. Fadel seemed to agree with that, because he let out a little grunt in reply. It had Style grinning lazily. Fuck, he was so sexy, he thought it himself. Style couldn't help the small, little giggles that left him, even though he was on the cusp of an orgasm.

He felt and heard a small and confused laugh from Fadel, though the sound was more of a breath of air than anything. "What are you laughing about?"

"Mm— n-nothing, my s-sexy man," he sighed dreamily, his voice strained, rolling his hips into the next grind. Fuck, he was so close. All he could think about was Fadel, Fadel, Fadel, and it was driving him insane. The only thing that mattered was him and the way he was pressed against Style so deliciously.

Another giggle threatened to bubble out of him at Fadel's soft sigh, but he swallowed the sound down and let his head fall to the side, exposing the column of his neck, just so Fadel would latch on again and suck and bite.

He did, and Style was in bliss, letting his eyes slip closed in ecstasy. His breath came in short, quick pants, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest as Fadel grinded just a little bit rougher— a silent warning that he was just as close as Style. Oh, how he wished they were completely naked just so Fadel could paint him with his cum. That thought had Style shuddering violently, a breathy, hysteric keen of the other man's name falling from his slack jaw. His body was hot, and all his muscles tensed and coiled in anticipation, ready to snap.

His hands clutched at Fadel desperately as the other man bit into his neck, the pain shooting up his spine like electricity. Style felt the coil in his gut tighten and wind further, and with one last grind of Fadel's cock against his own, he was coming with a broken, gurgling noise that no doubt would have sounded weird to his ears if Style wasn't lost in his pleasure.

His vision whited out and all the tension left his body, leaving him pliant and soft and shaking. Fadel wasn't far behind, and while Style had half a mind to reach down and force Fadel's underwear down his hips, he didn't. Instead he let Fadel's stuttered, messy rolls and grinds against his own twitching hips bring him to completion.

The tiny noise Fadel breathed was pure sin. He went still and tense, and Style could imagine just how wet his underwear must have been. It had his own spent cock giving one last twitch at the thought. Style let out a soft mewl of his own at the feeling of Fadel's breathy sigh against his neck.

Style panted, trying to regain his breath. His legs ached, and his neck felt raw and oversensitive. Fadel was still panting wetly against the skin there, making his skin erupt with goosebumps at every puff of hot breath. He was shaking lightly, and it took a moment before he let his entire weight rest against Style, who welcomed the pressure.

Style sighed softly, shakily. The air was still hot, but it wasn't suffocating like it had been a few moments ago. He let his legs relax, his feet coming to rest on either side of Fadel's thighs. It was cozy like this, cuddled up to each other in a sweaty, sticky heap.

He was still floating in the post-orgasm bliss. Lessening his grip, Style began to absentmindedly card his fingers through Fadel's hair. It was soft, and he could smell the faint scent of shampoo, and the underlying scent of Fadel himself.

Fadel hummed lowly, the sound making Style shiver. "You're much quieter in the mornings," Fadel mused softly, his voice slightly muffled.

A laugh nearly forced its way out of Styles's mouth. What a random thing to say after just practically dry fucking the hell out of someone. But that was Fadel for you.

Instead, Style decided on just smiling, the action lazy and lethargic. "Oh yeah? You're just going to have to wake me up like this more often then. It'll be a win for the both of us. I get a great morning fuck and you get me to stop talking," he replied with an amused huff. The words were a bit breathy and quiet, but they were enough to have Fadel laughing quietly, his body vibrating pleasantly.

"I think I will," was Fadel's only response.

Oh! Well then. Style just about choked on his own tongue in surprise, but kept it in, just smiling wider.

Minutes passed by and he was now half asleep, his body relaxed and boneless, so when Fadel pushed up onto his arms, Style let his arms flop uselessly to his side. He was too cozy to care what Fadel did, as long as he was still in his vicinity.

"Where are you going?" he mumbled tiredly, eyes blinking open. His eyelids were heavy, so he only made quick eye contact with Fadel, before letting them close again. He heard Fadel make a soft indecipherable noise, and nearly jumped when Fadel moved further back and began pulling off Style's underwear, the wet and sticky front smearing along his skin as it went down his legs. Fadel must have felt the same way about the mess in his own underwear, because Style heard the soft thumps of clothing being tossed to the side and felt the dips in the bed as Fadel moved to take them off.

Style didn't even bother to open his eyes to look. He already knew how delicious Fadel looked. With his sculpted chest and chiseled abdomen and muscled thighs and arms. 

Well... maybe he'd open his eyes just for a peek.

"We're dirty," came Fadel's answer as Style squinted his eyes open, and Style nearly choked on his saliva rushing to spit out a suggestive comment.

"Yeah, baby, you know how dirty we can get, this is nothing. Why don't we get dirtier?" Style drawled with a tired wink.

There was a small smile that formed on Fadel's lips, but other than that, Fadel remained unamused. "Come on, let's get up."

Style wasn't having any of it, though, because he rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his cheek into the soft sheets. He hummed contentedly and stretched his limbs languidly.

"No, too much effort." His words were slurred, but it was obviously exaggerated, because if Fadel wasn't going to let him sleep in, then he was going to play dead until the man gave in. Fadel huffed a small laugh, though it was barely audible, and didn't say anything in return.

The mattress dipped again as Fadel shifted, moving towards Style. Oh? Was he going to cuddle him again, after all? Yes, maybe they would stay in bed all day, tangled up in each other's embrace, trading lazy kisses. Style sighed happily, closing his eyes once more and letting his entire body relax. 

But, after a moment when Fadel didn't move again he frowned to himself, forcing his face away from the soft sheets in order to crack an eye open. "Whatcha doin'?" he mumbled tiredly, looking at the man through his lashes.

He saw Fadel's lips curl into the tiniest of smiles. "Nothing," Fadel purred. It was a simple statement, and Style's face grew warm at the implication.

"Oh." His voice was high, but he wasn't embarrassed. Not in the slightest. Style never was embarrassed, anyways. It wasn't in his blood. "Well, if you're going to look at me then I might as well give you a good view." With a bit of maneuvering and stretching, Style got comfortable, resting on his back, his hands already trailing up and down his torso. He made sure his fingers brushed over the sticky patch on his abdomen, just to tease Fadel, before letting them slide up to his neck, dancing lightly over his collarbone before going back down, lower and lower, until his fingertips slipped past his hips, dangerously close to his cock. He snuck a glance over at Fadel, who looked unimpressed.

"We need to get up."

Style harrumphed. That was not what he was expecting to hear.

"Oh, I'm not enough to make you want to spend all day in bed with?" he teased, giving Fadel a coy, sultry smile. He was already on the verge of falling asleep again, and if Fadel was just going to be boring, he might as well sleep.

"You are," Fadel replied. He moved closer to Style, until he was practically hovering over him. "But, we should go shower."

Style rolled his eyes playfully. He really wasn't in the mood to do anything but lay there. Yet, his mind wandered. He could already imagine it: a nice, hot shower with Fadel. Their soapy bodies rubbing against each other, the water and steam surrounding them, the glass walls fogging up, and the sounds of their voices echoing against the tiles.

Style would pin Fadel into the damp wall by his hips as he was on his knees, sucking the life out of Fadel. His mouth would be full, and drooling. Fadel's fingers would tangle in Style's wet hair, tugging and pulling at the roots. Style would be crying with pleasure while he let Fadel fuck his throat, choking on that thick, beautiful, gorgeous cock, and feeling Fadel's hot cum sliding down his esophagus. Or maybe Fadel would turn him around, bend him over, and fuck his brains out against the tiled walls— damn it he was hard again.

"I think I'm irresistible," Style announced suddenly, lazily sliding a hand down to rest teasingly near his cock, a small, lazy smirk forming. He watched the way Fadel eyed him, the man's eyes following his hands. Style was getting a bit hot, his mind still stuck on the imagery of them in the shower. If he kept this up, maybe Fadel would agree to a round two before they had to get up for the day. They could make it quick.

He was snapped out of his fantasy, though, when he felt Fadel grab his hand and pull him upright. The motion made him groan in protest and try to wiggle his way out of the hold.

"No," Fadel stated, his tone of voice flat and stern. "Come on, we can take a quick shower together."

Style wasn't about to take no for an answer. He'd just have to up the ante. Maybe being a stubborn brat would make Fadel lose his composure. "Oh? Why don't you make me, sexy."

Ah, yes, the eyebrow twitch. He'd done it now, and he knew it. He could feel it, the shift in the air. His heart rate skyrocketed up and his body trembled in response. Oh, yes.

He was ready for whatever Fadel threw at him, whether it was a quickie right in bed or in the shower, or a little wrestling match where they'd try to pin one another down and—

Style didn't get to finish his thoughts. One moment he was seated, the next, Fadel was pushing him down into the bed—not too kindly, either, which Style was more than happy with—and straddling him. The man's hand was already in his hair, twisting the strands in his fingers. Style felt a full body shudder pass through him. His eyes rolled back and he arched up, a pleased moan leaving his lips.

"You really want me to make you?" Fadel asked, his tone low and husky. Style could only nod, his hands already moving up to clutch at Fadel's back. His nails pressed into the soft skin, and the action had a small, barely there hitch of breath coming from Fadel. "We could be in the shower right now, but no. You want to stay here."

Oh. Fuck, this was hot. Fadel was such a sexy beast. Style was getting dizzy with how quickly he was turned on. He tried to arch his back, but found that he couldn't, and when he tried to roll his hips, Fadel stopped him by wrapping a hand around his neck and squeezing.

Oh! That's definitely the easy way to get Style to be a submissive little bitch. A few squeezes around his throat and Style was nothing more than putty in your hands.

Fadel leaned back in, his lips brushing lightly over Style's, not kissing, just barely ghosting over his lips, the hot puffs of air against his face had Style panting, his entire body feeling overheated and oversensitive. Fuck, Fadel wasn't playing fair, he thought to himself, but it was so fucking hot and perfect, any complaints quickly died on his tongue.

"You know, I'm starting to like the idea of having you be quiet more often," Fadel purred, and Style was about ready to lose it. "You talk too much."

Style knew for a fact that Fadel actually liked it when he talked and babbled on, but this had to be part of their little scene they just started. Fadel's hand was still on his throat, the hold tight enough to have Style's head spinning, and his body aching with need. He wanted to respond, wanted to say something that was definitely snarky, but all that left his mouth was a soft little moan.

Fadel smiled just a little. It was slow and lazy and had Style's stomach fluttering. Releasing his grip, Style heaved in a big gulp of air, his teasing words already on the tip of his tongue.

"I-I'm going to have to disagree. I'm just the perfect amount of chatter. You can't get enough of my sweet talking. You love my mouth. You love how vulgar I am, you can't deny it, sexy," Style panted. "You also love it when my mouth is wrapped around your—"

"Enough," Fadel interrupted, and his voice was so deep and commanding, that Style's mouth clamped shut with an audible click. Fuck, Fadel could do anything to him right now and he'd let him. Fadel could choke him until he passed out and he'd thank him. Oh, that— that actually sounded amazing, he wouldn't be opposed to it.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

A pause. Fadel didn't particularly need a verbal answer. Style nodded eagerly. Fadel was then moving back, giving Style some space.

"Fine. Roll over."

Fucking hell. Oh, this was hot, hot, hot and hot. Fadel was sexy. Fadel was sexy, Fadel was sexy. It was like a chant in his mind, a broken record that was on repeat. He didn't waste any time. Style was already squirming and scrambling to get onto his hands and knees, arching his back in a nice bow to stick his ass into the air, his chest and head resting on the pillows beneath him. He wiggled his ass, looking over his shoulder with an expectant and needy gaze. He couldn't help but let a few quips escape him.

"Come on, fuck me. Make me cry, make me scream. Make me beg for your big cock. Make me beg for you to— ah!" He was interrupted with a hard slap on his ass. He felt the sting of pain and jerked, his eyes fluttering shut as his mouth dropped open. The impact made his skin burn and oh fuck— fuck, yes. "Oh, shit, Fadel, you kinky fuck," he panted. "Do it again."

Fadel's face was set in a look of pure exasperation. He let out a small, irritated huff, then reached over to the shelf next to Style's bed, grabbing a random sock. Before Style could ask what the man was doing, Fadel was gripping Style's chin with his other hand, the hold tight and strong. The action had Style gasping, a shudder running down his spine.

"Open."

Fuck, Style didn't care whose sock it was or if it were clean or not, he gladly opened his mouth, feeling completely hysteric and frantic, ready for Fadel to stuff it full with the sock.

His jaw dropped, his lips parting, tongue lolling out, eyes wide and glassy and needy. Fadel wasted no time. He gripped Style's chin tighter and shoved the sock into his mouth. Style's mouth snapped shut—or tried to—and his teeth clenched around the fabric.

Fadel was panting softly. His eyes were dark and hooded, his lips slightly parted. "That'll keep you quiet."

Style's sassy retort was muffled, but oh, he was loving this. He was definitely getting the rough and hard fucking that he wanted, but with an extra bonus. He couldn't wait. His hands gripped onto the sheets, and his body trembled. He was hard and leaking and fucking ready, his cock bobbing in between his legs, precome sliding down the shaft in a slow trickle, landing in little globs onto the sheets.

He watched with wide, eager eyes as Fadel moved behind him, grabbing his waist with his strong hands and pulling him closer. He let out a weak little mewl, and tried to roll his ass into Fadel's crotch, desperate to have him inside. His mind was racing with thoughts and images of how he wanted Fadel to fuck him, but he didn't dare reach up to pull out the makeshift gag in order to voice his desires. Not yet, anyway.

He felt the bed shift, then heard the sound of Fadel spitting—holy shit—and then felt a finger contemplatively circle his rim. He hummed, canting his hips backwards towards the feeling, wanting more, but Fadel was already pulling away, leaving Style whining dejectedly.

Fadel pat him gently on the ass, the action a stark difference from his earlier harshness. "Turn over." 

Style frowned. 

Make up your mind, damn it, he thought to himself, a bit of a pout on his lips, but he still turned, rolling over so he could spread his legs like the good little whore he was and wrap them around Fadel's hips.

"Good," was Fadel's praise. Style full-body shuddered at that. His cock drooled pathetically against his abdomen now. Oh, yes, praise him. Tell him how good he is and how sexy he is, tell him how pretty his thighs look spread like this, ready and waiting to be fucked senseless. "You're so impatient."

Oh, and Fadel's condescending tone was driving Style absolutely mad, he had to close his eyes and throw his head back with a breathless huff, just to stop from squirming in delight. He brought his hands up and made grabby hands towards Fadel. Come on, fuck me, he tried to say, the words coming out as a garbled mess through the gag. He could already feel the spit dribble out the corner of his mouth and slide down his chin.

Fadel was ignoring him. The man's fingers began trailing up his legs, stopping at his knees to grip onto the flesh tightly, and spread them even further. Style keened and let him manhandle him, just so his thighs were open and he was completely exposed. The air felt cool against the wetness on his hole from Fadel's saliva. His chest heaved as he panted heavily through the gag, although it wasn't enough, and he had to resort to breathing harshly through his nose instead.

A finger was at his entrance, teasing the furled skin, not pressing in, but lightly almost petting the sensitive area. The sensation made his toes curl, and his hips jerk, wanting the digit to slip inside him and touch him just where it felt so, so good. Fadel was going to drive him to insanity. The light, feather touches had his body shivering. His entire body was on fire. He needed more.

"Fadel—" he whined, though the sound was unintelligible through the sock in his mouth. Fadel didn't even spare him a glance, too busy staring down at his fingers, and the sight of Style's spread legs and pretty little pink, glistening hole.

His eyes fluttered shut and he arched his back when he felt two fingers press against the tight ring of muscles, not pressing in, not pushing past the barrier. They were just there, and the feeling was driving him crazy.

Again, Fadel ignored any and all little pleading noises that emitted muffled from Style's throat. He just kept slowly circling the rim, teasing the sensitive nerves, and the feeling was both not enough, but also too much. He was on edge, his cock leaking a steady stream of precome onto his abdomen, pooling right in the center, before sliding down the curves of the muscle. It was hot and sticky, and most of all wet and filthy, which had Style feeling a great big urge to touch himself. Either to get a reaction out of Fadel or just to get some form relief, but he kept them down at his sides, fingers twisting into the soft sheets.

"Mmgh—" He was getting frustrated, but in a good way, the kind that left his entire body tingling and on edge, and he wondered if Fadel knew that and was doing this on purpose.

His hands were now in fists on the sheets, the knuckles almost white with how hard he was gripping them. He was so horny and wound up, his hole was practically throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He felt deliciously hot, his hands slightly clammy. His body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, making him glow in the morning sunlight. He could just imagine what he looked like, spread and ready and pliant. Oh, how it was a nice image, he could get off just thinking about it.

Fadel made a little noise of acknowledgement. It was low, but it was definitely laced with a bit of lust. His eyes were dark and hooded, trailing along the length of Style's body. Style squirmed, feeling both desperate and dejected. The finger wasn't moving, and if it didn't start soon, Style would spit out the gag, and take matters into his own hands.

It seemed like that would end up being what Style would have to resort to, because Fadel, with a teeny tiny little smirk—sexy bastard—continued to just massage his rim with feather light touches that sent electricity up and down his body, and made him shudder violently.

With a lust-addled mind, Style unfisted the sheets with one hand and brought it down in between his legs, his fingers replacing Fadel's, the tips dipping into the wetness from Fadel's spit. He rubbed it into the sensitive skin, and let out a high-pitched whine through his gag. His cock jerked at the motion, and he watched through hazy eyes, the way Fadel stared at him with an expression he couldn't place. But in those eyes were desire, he could tell.

Almost as quickly as it happened, Fadel was forcing Style's hand away with a harsh grip on his wrist. Style let out the most pathetic whine, and Fadel's gaze again snapped to his, eyes hard, and dark. Style was shaking.

"First your mouth. Now this." Fadel sighed and rolled his eyes. "Can't you control yourself?"

A shake of his head was all he could give Fadel, and going off of the blank stare he got in return, Fadel already knew the answer. Of course he couldn't, but this was a scene, right? Fadel was putting him in his place, and fuck if that wasn't the sexiest thing ever.

Style watched with curious eyes as Fadel clambered off of the bed and walked over to Style's dresser. What could he possibly be doing?

Fadel rummaged around, opening drawers. His question was quickly answered when he saw Fadel bend down—damn, what a view—open the last drawer, hum in satisfaction, pull out a belt, then slam the drawer shut, which made Style jump. He turned back around, his expression bored and disinterested, but his eyes gave away his desire. 

Style's heart was going to give out. It was thudding wildly in his chest as he watched with eager anticipation. The bed dipped when Fadel got back on, and just... sat there. Style's chest heaved with his pants, wondering why the fuck Fadel was just staring at him with an almost disinterested expression. It had his body burning up, and he couldn't help but squeeze his thighs together in a sad attempt to ease the building pressure in his lower abdomen.

The tension was palpable. Fadel was so calm and collected, while Style felt like a mess of limbs, a desperate, hot mess of limbs.

It seemed like forever before Fadel met Style's eyes, and the intensity behind it almost had Style fucking himself on his fingers just to feel something. Fadel was undeniably rock hard, his cock curving towards his bellybutton, and fuck did Style want that in him already. He was more than stretched and lubed up from last night. Fuck any more prepping and fuck the lube, Style was ready now. He watched with hungry eyes as precome beaded at the tip of Fadel's cock, slowly dripping down the underside, the strand long and glistening in the sunlight filtering into the room.

Style's eyes flicked back up to Fadel, eyes widening as Fadel lifted a hand from the belt and crooked a finger in a 'come here' gesture and oh, yes, Style was going, by god he was going. If you were worried about him not going fast enough, don't be, he was scrambling to crawl over to him as fast as he could. He had no shame, not when it came to Fadel, and especially not when it came to getting his ass destroyed by the sex god that he called a boyfriend.

He crawled the last few inches raised up on his knees, straddling Fadel's lap. Fadel was on the edge of the bed, one foot planted firmly onto the floor, the other bent at the knee, his thigh pressed into the mattress.

Almost immediately, Fadel was forcing Style's arms behind his back, wrapping the belt tightly around his wrists and pulling. The leather dug into his skin and Style was so fucking gone for this, his body trembling in Fadel's lap. His cock was now trapped against Fadel's abdomen, the hard, warm skin pressing against him had Style whimpering into the gag, rolling his hips.

The movement had his cock rubbing stickily against Fadel in the most delicious way, and the wet, slick friction was just enough to have Style huffing and whining, eyes squeezed shut and head tilted back as far as he could, a healthy pink flush settling over his cheeks as little sparks of pleasure danced their way up his spine.

Style was happily inviting Fadel to feast on his neck, collarbone, jaw, whatever, but Fadel didn't take the bait, instead he rested his hands on Style's hips and squeezing lightly. He wasn't helping with Style's grinding at all, he was just letting Style do what he wanted. Style was going insane. He was going to fucking lose it. Fadel seemed to surprise him each time they had sex, always adding a new element to the equation.

"Look at you." Style's rhythm stuttered. "Pathetic. Can't keep your mouth or your hands to yourself," Fadel tsked. The man was just as breathless, his words coming in pants, his chest rising and falling visibly, and it made Style feel a little less alone. Fadel's hands tightened around Style's waist, and in a split second decision, Style pulled his head back, staring at Fadel with an expression he hoped was conveying his feelings.

Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, was what he wanted to say. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows raised in a pleading expression.

"Slut."

The moment the word left Fadel's mouth, and although it sounded slightly hesitant, Style wished he could've kissed him senseless. Instead he just let his head fall forward with a high pitched keen. The way the word was spoken, like it was an insult, had his body tingling pleasantly, a wave of pure ecstasy flooding through him so fast and hard it had his stomach clenching in a fierce burst of arousal.

His cock twitched pathetically, and the precome that already coated his cock and his and Fadel's abdomen was now joined with a fresh glob that oozed out and dripped slowly and hotly down the shaft.

His thighs were trembling, the muscles tensing and his knees aching, and his hands clenched and unclenched, his nails digging into the skin of his palms, and oh how his hole was aching to be touched and filled and used. Style, needing more and not being able to convey it verbally, widened his legs, trying to press his ass against Fadel as close possible in a silent beg.

Fadel spoke again, this time with a bit more confidence, his tone a low, sultry purr. "Can't keep your legs closed for one minute, hm?" 

Dear god.

And Style thought he had a filthy mouth.

Another broken, pathetic mewl from Style, who was on the cusp of bursting into tears from just how overwhelmed and turned on he was.

The praise and degradation were doing wonders to him. His mind was spinning and he was barely keeping it together, what with the gag in his mouth and his arms tied behind his back. This was an enlightening moment for Style, and he thanked the stars for Fadel and his filthy, kinky mind. If he wasn't so loopy—and his mouth was free of the gag—he'd tell Fadel how amazing and wonderful he was.

Instead he was too busy drooling all over the makeshift gag and letting out little whines and keens as he mindlessly ground his cock into the skin of Fadel's abs. He couldn't even focus on anything but the way the skin slid along the underside of his cock, the friction almost painful, but deliciously perfect.

"Mfghh—"

The lewd moan was forced from his throat the moment Fadel slid his hands from his hips and down to his ass, roughly kneading the flesh. It felt like heaven, and had Style squirming desperately, his hole fluttering and spasming at the sensation of fingers dipping in the cleft.

He felt the tips of Fadel's index and middle fingers slide over the pucker of his ass, the motion slow and teasing, but the touch still too fucking light. He tried to arch his back into it, but was stopped by the hands gripping his ass and holding him steady.

Okay, Style had enough of the teasing. He could come right now just from one touch, and Fadel didn't seem to care.

With an indignant huff, Style pushed his ass back against the digits, forcing them in with the motion, and letting out a high-pitched, guttural yelp at the feeling. Fadel didn't seem too impressed, but let it happen. The fingers were already deep in him, the digits spreading and rubbing and twisting. His body was on fire, the heat licking up his spine and down the back of his legs.

It felt like an eternity that Style was sitting in Fadel's lap with the fingers buried deep in him, the two of them grinding and rocking and panting. His cock was still trapped in between their bodies and the pressure was driving him mad. The slick slide had his mind going absolutely bonkers, and the knowledge that it was all because of their precome mixing together, nearly had him tipping over the edge. He made a desperate and obscene gurgling noise, which somehow Fadel knew what he was saying. It was a 'get your fingers out and cock in' sort of plea, but in a very needy and desperate way.

Fadel pulled out his fingers and Style let out the most mournful noise he'd ever heard himself make.

His hips twitched and he couldn't stop himself from trying to take the reigns, and lift himself up on shaking legs to sink down onto the cock that was right there. He was still in Fadel's lap, his knees on either side of Fadel's hips, but Fadel's grip was iron clad and unrelenting.

Style was going to cry. He wanted to sob and whine and beg, but all that came out were some sad, hiccuping sounds, muffled through the sock in his mouth.

He wanted to be fucked. He needed it. He couldn't wait any longer, the need was clawing at his throat, and he was so ready to just start spitting out the sock, so at least he'd be able to beg and plead his way to being fucked senseless, even if his arms were still bound.

And so that's exactly what he did.

It wasn't that hard. With his tongue, he forced the gag from his mouth, and it fell onto Fadel's lap with a wet slap, immediately beginning to soak up the precome and saliva that sat there. The words were already falling from his lips before Fadel could protest, and his voice was wrecked. He sounded desperate and frantic and beyond needy.

"P-please, please, fuck me, F-fadel, please—" He broke off with a weak hiccup, his hips rocking and his legs shaking, thighs tense. "Fuck— please. Use me, please, Fadel, I—"

Fadel leaned in, cutting him off just to leave a quick and fierce, bruising kiss, nipping harshly on Style's wet bottom lip. His chin was drenched in his own spit from the makeshift gag, but Fadel didn't seem to mind, his lips and tongue trailing down his chin to lick it away. The entire time, his fingers dug harshly into the meat of his ass cheeks, forcing them apart and stretching them provocatively.

"Then ride me," was all Fadel said, and Style nearly choked. It wasn't a sweet or gentle request. No, it was a demand. It was rough, and it forced a shudder to wrack through Style's body, a full bodied, violent shiver. Style wanted to cry. This was too hot. His cock jerked as another bout of arousal shot through him, forcing another glistening bead of precome to ooze down his shaft and join the sticky, slowly cooling mess that coated the skin of his cock and Fadel's stomach and lap.

"You want me?" Fadel's voice was a low sexy purr. Style nodded, eyes wide and glassy with tears, and he let out a small noise. He wanted to reach out and cup Fadel's cheeks, to kiss him, to wrap his arms around the man and never let go.

"Then get to it."

Oh. Oh. Okay. Yes, yes, yes, this is exactly what he wanted. This was it. It was hot, and perfect. Style was obsessed and— 

Fadel removed one hand from Style's ass and reached between them, grabbing the forgotten sock, which was now soaked with both spit and their precome. It was sticky and wet and disgusting, and Fadel shoved it right back into Style's mouth. It tasted bitter and tangy, the fabric soaking his tongue in a matter of moments. Style was in heaven. His eyes unwittingly rolled into the back of his head. His mouth flooded with spit as he salivated, the fabric soaking up most of it.

It was so gross and nasty and filthy, and Style was going to come right then and there. His entire body was hot, his mind was racing, and his hole still was aching to be filled and abused. He wanted to feel like nothing, just a toy to be fucked and used and thrown aside. Well, not completely thrown aside. He would be kept around like a precious toy that needed to be kept safe, locked away from everyone except his owner. He wanted to be loved, taken care of, kissed and pet on the head and told he's such a good boy, and the only way he could get that was to ride his owner's dick like it's his only purpose in life, like his only job is to please his master.

Okay, Jesus Christ, that was probably overkill, Style. Calm down. He'd always had quite the vivid imagination.

With that imagery still fresh in his mind, and with Fadel's cock in between his ass cheeks, he wasted no more time and raised himself onto his knees.

It was a bit hard to balance without his arms, so he just fell forward, onto Fadel's chest, and let his knees take most of the weight. Fadel made a soft noise that had Style whining and squirming to hear again, and he tried to look behind him to line Fadel's cock up with his entrance. Fadel's hand came to rest on the back of Style's thigh and squeezed. It was the most delicious and painful feeling ever, and had him mewling like a cat in heat, a shuddery sigh leaving his mouth.

He felt Fadel's cock head at his rim, and felt his breath leave his lungs in one quick rush, leaving his head spinning.

This is it. Fadel would finally stop teasing him and just get to the main event: fucking his brains out. He was so ready. So ready, so ready—

Without any warning or hesitation, Style let himself drop down. He was prepared, though. Sorta. The pain was sharp and searing, a biting sting that shot up his spine and made his jaw drop around the gag and eyes squeeze shut in blissful pain.

"Mmmfhgh—" he moaned loudly through the sock, and he would've collapsed if not for Fadel's hand on his thigh and the other one coming up to hold his waist.

Fadel was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with quick pants.

"Fuck, Style. You're too tight," Fadel grunted breathlessly, quietly. "Should've stretched you out."

A thrill shot up Style's spine at those words. He liked being tight for Fadel, and Fadel knew that, so when he heard that, he was ready to go. It didn't take long for him to get a rhythm going, even with his hands bound behind his back.

He bounced up and down on Fadel's lap like his life depended on it, and maybe it did, because he was on cloud nine right now, and if he stopped, his heart would probably stop, too. His mind was hazy and blank, only focused on Fadel, and the feeling of his cock inside him. He felt delirious, and if you told him that his life depended on him riding his boyfriend like this for the next hundred years, he would gladly do so.

Fadel's hands came to roughly grip Style's hips, forcing him to slow down, which Style loudly protested with a fierce snarl. 

Oh! Well, he's definitely never heard himself make that noise before. He didn't dwell on it too long, because he was much more interested in fucking himself stupid on his boyfriend's cock, not on his vocal chords deciding to sound like an angry wolf or whatever the hell that was.

And Fadel must have liked that, because he was muttering out a sharp and quick "shit" which had Style drooling and panting. Yet, he didn't let Style quicken his pace.

After a few more moments of frantically trying to hasten their pace, Fadel's grip tightened impossibly further. Style's rhythm then slowed considerably, which turned into just a languid grind of his hips, the cock in him practically just resting there. Fadel didn't even move to thrust up, he just sat there, his breathing labored.

He wanted to ask Fadel why, but he couldn't speak. The gag made it impossible, and the frustration had hot tears welling in the corners of his eyes, and a few slipped out, sliding down his cheeks.

Fadel didn't say anything for a few moments, and just sat there with Style in his lap. When he finally did, his voice was hoarse, and thick with heady desire, his words slow and deliberate, his voice dropping to a sultry tone. "You like it when I talk about you? My dirty little slut."

A small noise was Style's reply. Oh, Fadel was good at dirty talk. And although Style would love to give it back tenfold, the gag made it a little difficult, and the thought was a little disappointing. He loved to run his mouth during sex, to have his words drive Fadel mad. But now, it seemed like it was his turn. He had only ever done this one other time, which was that day in the gym, but Style was drooling for it now. Dirty talk was his game, his forte, and to have it be turned around and be used on himself instead, was something he was happy to get used to.

"Want my cum in you?" 

Oh, fuck—

Style was surprised he hadn't come yet. Fadel was throwing him a version of Style's own words, and he couldn't even think of anything other than holy fucking shit. All he could do was sit there and whine, a high pitched, keening sound that had Fadel twitching inside of him.

"Or on you?"

Style wanted it on him, in him, everywhere, but the only sound he could get out was a loud, huffing, "Mmf!"

"You'd like that?" Fadel's voice was a soft whisper, the tone deep, and the sound sending goosebumps down his arms. Style was shuddering, his body shaking and trembling, his hole spasming and fluttering and aching around Fadel's cock. He tried to quicken the pace yet again, and he managed a bit, but it still wasn't fast enough, and he wanted more. He was desperate, and the feeling was overwhelming him. He could barely keep his mind straight. Fadel's words and his dick inside of him was sending him to heaven, and his eyes kept fluttering as he tried not to let more tears spill from his eyes.

He wanted to sob, he wanted to come, he wanted to kiss Fadel and hold him and run his fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp, but his hands were tied and his mouth was full. All he could do was grind and bounce and let himself fuck down torturously slow on Fadel's cock.

"I would, too. Want to see it drip out of you—"

Fadel didn't even get to finish his sentence before Style was suddenly coming with a loud, broken whine, his hips snapping down hard against Fadel, his entire body tensing and shaking and shuddering. It came so fast, he couldn't even warn Fadel. His orgasm hit him like a train and had his mind reeling. It seemed to last forever, his entire body thrumming with pleasure, the intensity making him cry and whimper and moan out little obscene noises.

He couldn't catch his breath, and he definitely couldn't catch it when Fadel bit out a harsh curse, shoved Style roughly off of his cock and onto his back, forcefully flipped him over, and drove right back inside him.

The sensation of being full again had Style crying out, the gag nearly choking him, but he was too far gone to care. He couldn't breathe, and now Fadel's cock was splitting him in two. It was rough and quick, the thrusts snapping in at a brutal pace. Style couldn't think or speak or breathe or move, he could only lay there and let Fadel use him as he saw fit.

He was still cloudy and boneless from his orgasm, and the feeling of a second one creeping up dangerously had him keening desperately. It was hot and sharp, and fuck it was gonna hurt, but Style wanted it all the same.

He knew it was going to be a dry orgasm, one that would rip through him like a lightning strike and leave him breathless and shaking and aching, and the knowledge of that was thrilling, to say the least. His cock was still leaking steadily, a small puddle forming underneath him, adding to the numerous cum stains that now littered the bed. It wasn't as much as earlier, but it was still enough that it made Style feel even filthier than he already felt, which turned him on even more. It was a vicious cycle that never seemed to end with them, and he was living for it.

The belt was still digging into the skin of his wrists and it was hurting, now, the pain aching down the length of his forearms and up into his shoulders. It was delicious and Style welcomed it with, well, bound arms. It made his muscles feel tingly and weak. He couldn't feel his hands anymore, the digits numb and useless. It was the most perfect feeling, and Style never wanted it to stop, but with Fadel fucking into him so roughly, Style could tell he was getting close, and Style didn't want it to end yet.

It was all too soon, that Style felt Fadel shudder, a low, soft groan escaping him and then hot, wet heat filling Style up, the feeling of being marked, even if it was only internally, made him want to cry and beg for more. He felt so full and warm, his entire body on fire, the heat of Fadel's release scorching him from the inside, and while he was extremely pleased with how things went, that second orgasm was still creeping up on him, but now it seemed like it was going to fall short. He was too tired and strung out to even bother with it now. Maybe Fadel would be willing to let Style finish himself off— oh.

Fucking hell.

Fadel was suddenly pulling out of Style and flipping him over onto his back. The belt dug into his wrists further, the hold tightening and making his wrists cramp up. It made his eyes sting with fresh tears, the sensation bordering on pretty painful now, and the feeling left his mouth watering.

His hole felt abused and empty, the muscles fluttering and spasming, trying to clench down on nothing. The feeling of hot cum slipping out of him had his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Fadel's hands came to rest on either of his thighs, and the touch sent sparks shooting down his legs and to his toes, and Style was ready to try and beg, but the stupid gag was in the way again, and this time it was too stuffed for Style to push it out, so all he could do was lay there and whine despairingly, hoping Fadel would get the hint.

"Still need more?" Fadel murmured, the tone light, but the undercurrent of desire was evident in the way his voice was thick and rough with arousal, even though he had just came not even moments before. "Insatiable."

Style could only whimper miserably in reply, but it was answer enough. Fadel leaned in and Style was expecting him to pull out the gag and kiss him, but what he did was a thousand times better. He ducked down, and the first swipe of his tongue had Style's back arching and a broken sob ripping through him, and it took everything in him not to try and wiggle away from the touch, but Fadel's hands on him kept him firmly in place. That didn't stop the tears from falling down his cheeks and the drool from dripping out the sides of his mouth and down his love-bitten neck, which dripped slowly onto the sheets.

He tried to buck up in pure distress, but Fadel didn't let him, but he did lick a long, broad stripe up the length of his cock, and then with absolutely no build up or warning, Style was coming, and boy, did it hurt. The pleasure was sharp and stinging, coursing through his body and limbs like wild fire which had his body tensing, and the only thing that came out of his dick was a few drops of liquid that Style knew was most likely just the last of his cum he'd ever make in his lifetime.

The orgasm left him shaking, his body trembling and jerking with the aftershocks, the feeling leaving him extremely breathless and lightheaded. It hurt in the best way, and it had his toes curling and his thighs quaking. He felt like he was suffocating, not being able to take deep enough breaths through his nose, and luckily Fadel still had some of his head left, because the gag was out of Style's mouth and onto the bed within a matter of moments. It left Style's jaw aching, the pain dull and throbbing, but he greedily took in as much air as possible, his gasps loud and guttural.

His chest was still heaving when he came to. Fadel's hands were underneath him, already working the belt from around his wrists, and when it was off, Style didn't even have time to let the blood flow back in, because he immediately reached up and wrapped his arms tightly around Fadel's neck, bringing him in as close as humanly possible, burying his face into Fadel's shoulder. His body was weak, and the feeling left him feeling vulnerable, so he clung onto him like his life depended on it. It was nice, having Fadel's warm, slick skin pressed up against his.

"Are you alright? Does anything hurt?"

Well, yes, a lot did hurt, but it was a pleasant hurt that sent waves of warmth and pleasure through Style's body. He shook his head, still hiding in the crook of Fadel's neck, shaking like a leaf.

"Do you need anything?" A shake of his head again. He just wanted Fadel to lay down with him. He felt like he would pass out any second.

Now he really didn't want to get up for the day, but they'd have to eventually. He let out a weak, tired noise and wiggled until Fadel got the message and pulled back. The loss of his touch left Style cold, but before he could whine in protest, Fadel was laying down next to him, pulling Style in by his waist until they were pressed flush against each other, chest to chest, and Fadel was gently wiping away the tear stains on his cheeks and the leftover trails of spit on his chin with a corner of the blanket. It wasn't the best idea, seeing as the blanket was covered in bodily fluids, but Style never complained about getting certain things on his face. 

And if he could, he would have snatched the blanket in between his teeth and tried sucking whatever he could get from it, but he figured he tortured Fadel enough for the morning.

"Okay?" Fadel asked, his voice a low murmur. His fingers were tracing lightly over Style's wrists, and although they ached a little from how tightly the belt had been tied, he wasn't about to complain, especially when Fadel's lips replaced his fingers. He left light kisses along his wrist, the gesture sweet and innocent, a big difference to the rough and hard way they fucked not even five minutes prior.

"Mm," Style hummed, having just enough energy and wits to throw a shaky leg over Fadel's waist and drag him even closer, their wet and sticky bodies pressing up against each other. "Sleep." The word was so slurred, Style wasn't even sure if Fadel understood it, but the hands in his hair had him melting. His eyes were shut before he knew it, but not before he heard Fadel's soft, fond sigh.

He was drifting in and out, not fully asleep, but not awake enough to keep a conversation, or to even form words at this point. Fadel's hand was carding through his hair, and the touch was soothing and lulling, leaving Style a sleepy and satisfied pile of goo, cuddling up to his neck and relishing the way his heart was thudding in his chest against Style's, which was beginning to slow down just a hair.

Damn, who knew Fadel was so kinky. Yes, Style knew he was a sex god just like himself but never in a million years would Style have thought that he'd be gagged, bound, and degraded by him all in one morning.

It was nice. Really nice.

In fact, it was more than nice, it was hot, and fucking sexy and Style was so here for it. He was living for it, and if you told him to move to another country to live out the rest of his life getting gagged, tied up and fucked within an inch of his life, he would. He was so in love with Fadel's kinky side that he would go to war for it. He'd fight a thousand men if it meant he'd get a good fuck at the end of it. Fadel could bring an end to all life on earth and have Style's knees hitting the floor in a split second.

Okay, Style was a little more than just down bad for the man, and it seemed he was entering the realm of being a little unhinged, and borderline insane.

He needed to sleep this off. Fadel was turning him into a sex-driven, lustful creature, who couldn't even stay focused on the real world.

His brain was on another planet. He was so lost, but he never wanted to be found.

"Good night," he whispered into the warm skin of Fadel's neck, the words a quiet sigh. It was morning, but Style didn't care, and he was already fast asleep before Fadel even had time to respond.

Morning, night, whatever, Style was fucked into oblivion either way.

He was pretty sure he died. And if he did, it was the best death anyone could ask for. He had no regrets. He went out in the most perfect way. He couldn't wait for Fadel to do it again. And again. And again. Style, the Sex God™, taken out by a fuck so good, that he died right after, with no questions asked.

If that's not the dream, Style didn't know what was.