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Style stares at Fadel sitting across the tub from him.
The man had ignored the very sensual nipple play he’d just attempted and is now looking at Style like he’d rather be anywhere else. He’s trying to get Style to drop it. To leave him alone. To stop digging.
But he knows what Fadel has been doing. He’s been pushing him away, stopping his attempts to kiss him, ignoring his advances because he knows if he gives in, if he lets Style kiss him, it will be over. His resistance will be broken, and he’ll have to admit that there’s still something there between them. Right now he can still act like he’s unaffected. Like he didn’t actually care about Style. That he is still going to kill him at the end of all of this.
But he’s not.
He’s proven it over and over in the last twenty four hours.
And sure, he can say that he never loved Style. That he never cared. That he never fell for him…
But the thing is, Fadel may be good at a lot of things, like cooking, fucking, and even killing people…but lying isn’t one of them.
So, it’s time for him to just give in and accept that he still wants him.
He takes his hand and leans forward, slowly kissing the knuckles first, and then working his way up to the tired and hurt tendons of his forearm, periodically glancing up to gauge Fadel’s reactions. And sure enough, his eyes are locked on Style, on where Style is gently pressing his lips to his wet skin, eyes dark and wanting, though his own lips are set in a grim line.
That’s fine. Fadel can pretend he doesn’t care, can act like what Style is doing isn’t affecting him at all, but he knows better. Beneath the water Fadel is no longer soft and uninterested, Style can see his hard cock as he rises out of the water enough to kneel, bracketing Fadel’s legs between his spread knees. He needs more leverage for what he has planned.
Fadel just watches as he moves, kissing his way up his arm and shoulder until finally he pulls away, hand coming to rest on Fadel’s chest as he goes for a kiss. The man beneath him seems to be allowing it at first, until he is centimeters away from his lips, and then he’s turning his head like a bandage being ripped quickly away to lessen the pain.
At first the act stings. He hates this. Hates being denied, but.. “That’s fine.” He says quietly, “You don’t have to kiss me for me to make you feel good, Fadel.”
Fadel finally turns his head to look at him again and frowns. “Who said I want you to, huh? No one-.”
“Your mouth doesn’t have to say anything,” He replies as his hand dips down his chest to run along his abs and then under the water to where Fadel’s cock is hard and waiting, “This says it all.”
“It’s just a reaction-.”
“Not just this.” He says, fingers gripping him gently, “But your eyes too. Don’t think I don’t notice how they always linger on me.”
“Yeah,” He grits out, “to make sure you’re not trying to get away.”
Style sighs and lets go of his cock. “I think we both know by now I’m not going anywhere.” And then he’s reaching behind himself to press one of those fingers to his hole. Water isn’t as good as lube but it’s going to have to do. He’s not getting out of this tub until he’s at least attempted to ride his boyfriend into accepting his sincerity.
So, he slips the digit inside and begins the process of opening himself up. He never takes his eyes off of Fadel as he does so, keeping them locked on his face as he lets out a couple breathy noises as he adds another finger and scissors them a few times to speed it along.
Fadel stares back at him, eyes drifting down from his lips to his stomach to where his dick is hard and jutting out between them. When their eyes meet again Fadel raises a brow as if daring him to say something.
So he does, “Like what you see?”
His boyfriend lets his eyes roam over him once more and then looks away. “You know the answer, why ask?”
Shit. Why does he always have to be so grouchy?
He takes his fingers out and gets into a better position. He doesn’t care that he knocks into Fadel to do so. He glares at Style as the water splashes up his chest.
“Careful. You keep making that face and I’ll try to kiss you again,” he teases and shifts until he’s hovering over his boyfriend’s body. He waits a moment, watching Fadel for any indication that he doesn’t want this, that he really is going too far, but all he gets is those dark eyes trying to bore their way into his soul and then his eyebrow ticks up as if asking what are you waiting for?
So, he moves forward with the plan.
It’s awkward, there’s not a lot of room in the tub, but he’ll just have to make it work. He grabs Fadel’s shoulder, careful not to hurt his arm, as he rises up enough to position himself over his hard cock, and then he’s lowering himself down and guiding it into his entrance with his other hand.
He hisses a bit, because it’s a tight fit, but that doesn't deter him. He just breathes and sinks down until Fadel is fully seated inside of him. Fadel groans and his hands grip tightly to the sides of the bathtub as Style lifts up a little and then settles back down. It’s like his boyfriend wants the only point of contact between them to be where they are connected.
Well, that’s fine.
Style understands. He gets it.
Fadel needs time to get used to the thought of being vulnerable with Style again.
It’s fine…it’s…
He lets his hands find purchase on Fadel’s shoulders as he begins moving. He’s unable to get his full range of motion like this, but there’s just enough to grind a little and steadily lift himself up and down as he tries to ride him.
The water sloshes around them and he can hear some of it splash onto the floor as he tries to get more aggressive, tries to get Fadel’s attention, because the man isn’t even looking at Style now. He’s got his head thrown back and his eyes closed, and his damn hands are still on the tub and not on Style as he moves.
It’s pleasurable, but at this angle he can’t fully rut against Fadel’s abs so his own erection is being kind of neglected and his leg is starting to hurt where it’s pressed against the porcelain. His back is also aching with how awkward it is to try to fuck himself on Fadel’s cock without slipping.
And shit…is that…
No. No. He’s getting a cramp. The tub is just too damn small for this.
“Fadel.” He sighs as holds himself still for a moment. “This isn’t going to work.”
Fadel finally lifts his head to look at him and Style’s cock twitches as their eyes meet. He looks like he wants to eat him. But he doesn’t make a move to take a bite, instead he takes his hands off the sides of the bathtub to grab his waist. His hands almost encircle the whole damn thing. The last time he did this; it drove Style crazy.
“Always biting off more than you can chew, aren’t you?” Fadel scoffs and then snaps his hips up, driving himself deep inside Style and causing him to cry out in surprise.
“Fuck, Fadel.”
“Mmmh…that's what I thought you were doing…but…”
“Hey,” he protests, “I’d like to see you try to do this. My leg feels like it’s going to fall off.”
Fadel just blinks at him before removing his hands and shrugging like he doesn’t care what happens now. “Then stop. This was your idea in the first place.”
Style just huffs and lifts himself off of him. He feels bereft for a moment as he climbs out of the bathtub, water running down his legs to pool around his feet on the floor, but he’ll be filled again soon.
Or he should be, but Fadel is just looking up at him and not making any attempts to move.
“Fadel.” He whines, “Stop being so stubborn. Your dick is still hard enough to poke my eye out. Get out of the damn tub and let me ride you for real.”
He sighs, like the thought of Style doing all the work is so damn taxing, and gets out, arms open as if to say now what?
They are wet so the wood floor would probably not be great. Style looks around and decides that the rug will have to do, but he’d rather have Fadel be sitting up, at least at first. The leverage was nice in the tub, there just wasn’t enough space. So, he grabs the edge of the rug and moves it to the wall between the two windows. Just underneath a picture of the beach.
Perfect.
Style motions to Fadel to come over and points to the rug. “Sit.”
Fadel rolls his eyes but does as he’s asked, carefully sitting down on the rug with his upper back leaning against the wall. He looks so good like that. Legs splayed out, cock hard, water dripping down his naked chest. Even his face looking bored does it for Style, because his eyes are giving away how much he wants this as he watches him approach.
Style wants him so much it hurts.
It’s easier this time when he straddles him. He leans in to latch his teeth into Fadel’s neck, wanting to get a taste before he starts this up again, but Fadel grabs his chin to stop him before he can make contact. “I’m not kissing you.”
“Oi, I know. I wasn’t going for a kiss…I was going to bite you. Can I not even do that?”
Fadel doesn’t answer, instead he just stares at him until he groans and gives up.
“Fine. No kissing and no biting.” He pouts. “I can only fuck myself with your cock. Got it.”
The man beneath him is quiet and Style knows it’s a losing battle. Fadel isn’t going to respond to anything right now. He’s too cocky and stubborn. But that’s fine. He won’t be for long. He won’t be able to remain stoic and unfeeling once he’s back inside of Style.
And when he sinks back down this time, it’s like heaven. This angle is so much better here, and he has more leverage and balance than he’d had in the tub. It’s perfect for what he needs now. “Shit.” He groans as he moves himself slowly, up and down his shaft, allowing his own cock to bounce with the movement. It’s easier like this. It’s just a shame that Fadel won’t hold onto him. His hips feel bare without his hands helping him along.
He looks at Fadel, but again his eyes are closed, cutting himself off from Style, but Style clenches down instead of pulling up and watches as Fadel’s eyes snap open.
Yeah. That felt good didn’t it, Fadel?
He does it again, moving so agonizingly slow, taking in his cock inch by inch and moaning loudly, as he bottoms out once more.
But Fadel still doesn't move to touch him. He is actually holding out a lot longer than he’d originally thought he would. Truth be told, Style is kind of impressed, but the whole point of this was to get him to give in and kiss him, and that’s not going to happen if he keeps insisting on not touching him.
So, Style will just have to drive him to the edge of insanity until he can’t help himself, now, won’t he?
He moves one leg so that his foot is on the floor and picks up the pace, fucking himself hard on his cock, moaning lewdly as he throws his head back, baring his throat to Fadel’s hungry gaze. But the man still doesn’t bite. Still doesn’t kiss. So, after a moment or two, he slows down into a grind, making sure to rut his dick on Fadel’s stomach until it's coated in his precum. His hips swivel in a circle and Fadel chokes back a moan.
“You can…touch me…you know.”
His eyes narrow. “And let you win?”
“Who said this is a game?” He pouts, letting the tiny lie fall easily from his mouth before rising and slamming himself back down to make Fadel gasp.
“It’s…always a game…with you.” He grits out, hands white knuckling the rug beneath them.
“Maybe…but…” He leans forward and pulls on Fadel’s ear lobe with his teeth, ignoring the promise he’d made early about not biting him. “Have you considered…that I just miss you….”
“Style.” He says his name like a warning. Like he’s taking this too far. But in Style’s opinion he hasn’t taken it far enough.
“Fadel.” He moans as he circles his hips and grinds up again, rubbing the tip of his dick against his belly. “Come on…you know you want to…” Then he gets an idea….He reaches out and grabs his right hand and brings it to his throat. “Shut. Me. U-.”
Fadel’s brown eyes light up and he’s squeezing before Style even finishes the word up.
Pre drips from his cock as his brain switches off. He loves it. He loves when Fadel chokes him. Fadel loves choking him. Yes. Yes. This is it. This is what is going to bring him on board.
Fadel is joining in now, moving his hips a little as Style rides him, cutting off his air supply and watching Style struggle to keep pace before letting him breathe again. And it’s not exactly what he wants, what he needs, but it’s close enough. It’s getting his boyfriend engaged in the play. He’s no longer a bystander letting it happen. He’s actively participating now.
And that…
That was the whole point.
He moans when Fadel releases his throat and slides his hand down his torso until it finds his aching cock. He strokes it a few times and Style mewls. “Oh, god. Yes. Fadel…touch me. Hurt me. Please.”
And one second, he’s rolling his hips down onto his boyfriend's lap and the next, he’s suddenly empty and being flipped onto his back and Fadel is between his legs and shoving into him so hard he slides across the floor a bit.
“Is this what you need, Style?” Fadel hisses as he bites down on his pec.
"Yes." Styles moans and wraps his legs around his lower back, bringing him even closer. “Fuck. Fuck.”
“You’re always testing me.” Fadel growls into his neck before biting there too. “Always pushing me.” His teeth sink into his shoulder as he drives himself forward, thrusting deep and steady as if he’s trying to burrow himself as far as he can into Style’s body.
“Oh, god,” Style scratches at his back as he fucks into him over and over again, teeth and lips sucking and biting marks into his flesh as Fadel unleashes his frustration onto his body. “Fuck, fuck. Harder. Fuck me harder.” He pants and that seems to trigger Fadel.
He shifts up on his knees, dislodging Style’s legs from his waist as he grabs the left one to spread him wide. He wraps his good arm around his leg to hold it still and then snaps his hips forward in one smooth move that has Style screaming. Each thrust has the head of Fadel’s cock hitting his prostate now, and he swears he sees stars as he picks up the pace. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point. He could be pleading for Fadel to kill him or make him come.
“I should...” Fadel pants, shifting forward a bit, “Make you wait.”
“Please…. you didn’t…let me… come at all yesterday…”
“I shouldn’t let you now ,” He growls and lets his leg fall to the side so he can lean forward and wrap a hand around his throat again. “But….” He squeezes, cutting off Style’s breath and gives another sharp thrust as he tells him. “I’ll let you, if you manage to come before I do.”
Then he releases his throat and starts pistoning his hips, seemingly rushing towards the finish line, but that’s fine, because the moment he’s able to suck in some air Style feels the crest of an orgasm rush over him.
So, it's Style that comes first with a well placed thrust, yelling Fadel’s name as he paints his own chest and stomach white. But before he can even catch his breath, Fadel is grabbing his hair and nearly pinning his head back to the floor with it.
“This doesn’t mean you won.” He hisses and then his hand is gone from his hair and gripping his jaw tightly as he forces his mouth open and slides his tongue inside in a hot and filthy kiss.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Finally.
Fuck.
Style accepts the sloppy kiss greedily, hands finding purchase in Fadel’s hair as he sucks on Style’s tongue and fucks him at a now uneven pace. This is it. Fadel is close. Style yanks on the strands of hair in his grip and Fadel groans, kissing him soundly for only a moment more before pulling away. He buries his face into the crook of his neck as his hips finally still and he comes hard inside of him.
Style tries not to be too smug about it, about making Fadel lose it and give in to his desire to kiss him, but he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as he listens to Fadel’s little gasps. He can feel the wet puffs against his neck as he pants there.
It’s nice. It feels like it did before this whole mess happened. When he had Fadel in his bed and they’d touched and kissed every inch of each other. When there were no barriers except the secrets that they both harbored.
But there’s no secrets between them now.
Style runs his hands up along Fadel’s back as his boyfriend’s post orgasm high reaches its peak and drops back down. His breath evens out and he groans once, and then he’s moving back, pulling out of Style’s body with a lewd noise.
Style already misses his warmth.
But Fadel doesn't seem to be feeling the same way. He sits up and shakes his head like he can’t believe he let Style talk him into that. “Shit.”
It does hurt his feelings, at least a little bit, that he is still managing to hold on to some of his stubbornness. But he should have expected it.
“So, how was it?” He asks, just to break the quiet between them. “Did I make good on my promise?”
Fadel sighs and looks down at him. “Get back in the tub.” he says, totally ignoring his question. “You’re a mess.”
He carefully stands up and puts his hands on his hips, because Fadel isn't going to get away with making him come his brains out and then pretend that it didn't mean anything. “Yeah, well who made me that way?”
“You did,” He replies, joining him to stand. “When you decided to fuck yourself on my cock” He points to the white porcelain behind him. “Now get back in the tub.”
“Fine.” He grumbles and concedes, there's no winning with him tonight, apparently. So, he climbs back into the tub. The water isn’t hot anymore, but that’s fine. He just needs to clean the cum off of himself before he puts on his clothes. He’d rather not be sticky and gross when he goes to sleep.
He glances over at Fadel who is looking up at the wall and then his eyes shift and he’s looking back at Style. He walks over but instead of getting in like Style had thought he would, he simply holds out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Style puts his hand out for him to take it but Fadel rolls his eyes, “I meant the washcloth.”
Well, fine then. Style raises a brow and brings the washcloth out of the water, but instead of handing it to his boyfriend he just takes it upon himself to run the wet cloth down his stomach, wiping away the evidence of their activities. Fadel only hisses slightly when he moves the cloth down further and gently cleans the residue off of his groin and then his softening cock.
When he lingers there, moreso playing with it than cleaning it, Fadel grabs his wrist. “Are you finished?”
Style smiles up at him. “Yes.”
“Then come on,” He nods over his shoulder to the picture on the wall. “Get out and get dressed, I think I know where Bison is.”
Style stares up at the picture of the beach. Maybe there’s a safehouse somewhere? Well, that’s cool. He wouldn’t mind hanging out with Fadel on a beach. As long as Kant isn’t like….dead….but well…surely Bison wouldn’t…. he’ll just think about that later. That's a problem for tomorrow's Style.
He gets out and finds his clothes, but by the time Style is drying off and putting his pants on, Fadel is mostly dressed, but is struggling with his shirt. “Here, let me.” Style says, and after a moment of hesitation from Fadel, carefully pulls the sleeve over the injured arm and up over his shoulder. He then helps button it up when Fadel manages the other arm himself.
He watches Fadel flinch a little. They should probably rewrap it before putting the sling back on but…“Do you think there are any bandages around here?” He wonders out loud.
“I don’t know, Style.” Fadel sighs in annoyance, “Why don’t you go downstairs and ask them.”
And it hits him then, that they left the owners of the house tied up and gagged downstairs….he’d forgotten all about them while he was busy trying to…
“Shit. Do you think Popcorn and Jimmy heard all of that earlier?” He asks, pulling on the black long sleeve shirt. He’d literally screamed at one point. He feels kind of bad.
Fadel snorts. “Probably. Who cares?”
“Well, I mean, that was kind of rude of us, wasn't it? It’s their wedding night and we fucked in their tub. Doesn’t seem very fair, does it? Us getting off while they are tied up.”
A look of pure annoyance has formed on Fadel’s face as he huffs out, “Style. Don’t make me regret kissing you.”
“Oi, I’m just saying-”
He puts his hand over his mouth, effectively cutting off his sentence. “Stop talking. Or I’ll make you sleep with them at the bottom of the stairs.”
Style licks his hand and Fadel makes a face before wiping it on his shirt. “No need for threats. I’ll go ask them if they have anything to wrap your arm.”
“Yeah, you do that.” he replies and sits down to put his shoes back on.
Style rolls his eyes as he leaves the bathroom. Fadel can act grumpy all he wants. He knows the truth. Fadel is just mad that he lost the game. But Style won’t rub it in his face. Not yet.
He’ll wait until later.
When he’s all healed up and able to really play games with Style.