Archive of Our Own ^beta

"This is ridiculous. We have hot, steamy sex in my backseats, which, by the way, I haven't gotten rid of all the stains yet, and now he's ignoring me. What am I doing wrong?"

Style was completely confused. He had thought he had the man wrapped around his finger, and now, here he was trying to chase after him like a desperate schoolgirl.

He was sprawled out on his bed, phone against his ear. Kant listened quietly on the other line, his breathing quiet and controlled as he waited for the other to continue.

"I thought I was irresistible," Style whined. "But every time I walk into his burger joint, he runs to the back as if he'd seen a ghost. It's insulting!"

"Maybe you need a different approach," Kant suggested, his voice smooth and low.

"And what do you suppose I do? I've tried everything! Flirting, being straightforward, I've even worn multiple crop tops!"

Kant was quiet for a moment, and Style was almost worried the man had hung up.

"I've got an idea, hold on, I'll call you back."

There was a click and the line went dead. He sighed, stretching his arms above his head lazily, the phone laying loose in his open palm.

Style laid there in silence for what seemed like forever, before his phone rang again. He answered immediately.

"Hello?"

"Listen," Kant began, his voice rushed. "Bison gave me his personal schedule. Fadel is a weird guy." He laughed a little. "He literally plans his days by the hour. I'll text you where all the spots are and the times. Go get him."

"Yes, sir," Style replied, and his lips quirked up in a smirk. "You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I definitely owe Bison, now. Whatever you do, never mention this again, I'd rather not be lying in a ditch somewhere."

Kant hung up.

After a few minutes, Style's phone buzzed. Kant sent the locations and times of Fadel's daily schedule, but one thing caught his eye.

Fadel had a gym membership. Maybe he'd get to see Fadel shirtless.

Fuck yes.

•••

It had been a few days after the call with Kant, and Style was on his way to the gym finally, dressed in some comfortable workout clothes. A cropped tank top and loose-fitting shorts. He knew he looked good, and he figured it was the perfect outfit to distract Fadel.

When he walked into the gym, he noticed there were only a few people there. Mostly men, of course. A few women scattered around here and there, and there was a group of guys by the treadmills, checking out a woman. Style scoffed, shaking his head, and began wandering around, hoping to find Fadel soon, preferably with his shirt off.

His mind wandered back to the previous days as he navigated the gym, eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. He tried his best to show Fadel he was interested in him, but the man ignored him every single time. Why? 

Style watched Fadel stretch on the track, the morning breeze blowing gently. It was cool, the sky a nice shade of blue with the sun shining brightly, and it was a nice change from the usual humid weather.

It was early, but if it meant seeing Fadel running and moving that sexy body of his, Style was all for waking up. Hell, he'd sleep on a park bench just for the chance to watch Fadel jog around in the early morning hours.

Speaking of the sexy man, he was currently doing warmup stretches. His back was turned towards Style, so he couldn't see his face. Style wanted to run his fingers through that dark hair, grab a handful and pull.

Oh, what he'd do to see the expression on the man's face if he pulled.

Okay. Focus, Style.

Style confidently walked onto the running track, walking right up behind Fadel, unbeknownst to him. 

What should I say to let him know I'm here? He thought to himself. How about, 'Hey, hot stuff. Wanna have some fun?' Oh, fuck, no. Too much. How about, 'Hey, handsome. Nice body. Wanna take me for a spin?' Oh, yes, that's better.

He had almost made up his mind on what to say, and he was about to say his choice of pickup line, but his mind suddenly blanked when Fadel let out a small noise as he stretched. So instead, he settled on something nice and easy.

"Good morning!"

Well... he tried.

Fadel didn't jump or show any sign of being startled, and damn, was the man focused or what? His back straightened, his shoulders squared, and he slowly turned his body, making direct eye contact with Style and the look was enough to almost send Style to his knees.

"Are you following me?"

Yes.

"Definitely not, I live around here." Style took on a tone of determination and sincerity. "I just want to be healthy and strong and take in the fresh morning air."

Fadel didn't seem to buy it.

"I saw you stretching over here and wanted to join." Style grinned, and his eyes trailed up and down Fadel's body. "Besides, the view here is great."

The look on Fadel's face was blank, and he was quiet, and Style took it as a sign to keep talking.

"Jogging alone is kinda lonely, don't you think?" Style mused, watching the way the man's lips pressed together in a tight line. "Can I join you?"

More words were exchanged, Style flirted some more because how could he not, and the encounter ended with Style's foot being crushed by Fadel's big, fat foot.

Ouch. Rude.

Style pouted, feeling the way his foot still sorta ached, although it was moreso his ego than his actual foot. That had been embarrassing, and the way Fadel didn't take any of his flirting seriously was a real blow to his self-confidence. Well, not really, he had enough self-confidence to power the entire planet.

Although, Style knew his little cheerleading moment was undeniably the highlight of that day. How he had gotten up on the bleachers with the microphone and chanted Fadel's name was a great idea.

And Fadel loved it, if his expressionless face had anything to say about it. The way he rolled his eyes and sighed meant he liked the attention, obviously.

Yeah, Fadel definitely liked him.

Style huffed to himself, and his eyes scanned the gym again. He was getting bored of walking around.

Glancing around some more, his lips quirked into a smile. His other attempt at wooing Fadel had worked like a charm, of course. At least that time, Fadel didn't ignore him. Or step on any of his body parts.

Actually, there is a body part Style wouldn't mind Fadel stepping on, but that's besides the point.

"Auntie, just pretend I'm not even here, I'm just here to get my man."

The older woman just nodded hesitantly, a confused smile on her face as she handed Style some gloves and an apron.

When Kant had told him that Fadel frequented the little shops in the open market daily for his burger joint, Style had practically ran to the first one.

The older woman who owned the stand had been surprised, but also a little endeared, and Style's charming personality won her over. Her spot in the market was specifically a butcher's stand, and she specialized in different meats. Style had never worked in a butcher's shop before, but he certainly knew how handle meat, specifically the kind that hung between Fadel's legs.

So, it should be no problem.

Speak of the sexy devil, Style watched as Fadel made his way over to the stand, his shopping bag slung over a shoulder in an almost endearing way. The man didn't seem to notice Style was there until he was close enough, and that was only because Style nearly toppled over the poor woman in a rush to greet him.

"Hello!" 

Style's smile was wide and toothy and the way Fadel's gaze slid over his form made him feel things.

"Don't tell me you're a butcher, too?"

"I am. I'm taking odd jobs. I fix cars. I push carts. I sell pork. I'm very versatile."

The look on Fadel's face was unreadable, his brown eyes intense. He didn't even bother responding to the statement, instead opting to ask, "Aren't you a little underdressed for the job?" His tone was extremely dry.

A cropped top and shorts are perfectly fine for butcher work, thank you very much.

"Well, this is a new job, and it's only temporary. I'm doing the best with what I have." Style paused, looking Fadel up and down with heated eyes. "What do you want?" 

Style briefly fantasized that Fadel would shout 'you, my love' and take him right then and there. But alas, the fantasy was ruined when Fadel spoke.

"Two kilograms of ground pork and two of tenderloin."

His tone was unamused, monotonous, and Style was enthralled. "Coming right up, sexy." Based off of Fadel's lovely expression—which was none, by the way, it was blank as a fucking board—Style knew this was going well. He just had to amp up the charm, and Fadel would be his.

"Do you come here often? Or am I just lucky to have such a hot piece of meat on display?"

Fadel didn't say a word. He just stared at Style, and his eyebrow quirked upwards.

"If you'd like, I could cut you a nice, thick slice." Style leaned forwards, his elbows on the counter, his chin resting on his palms. "It won't cost you much. I can give you a discount, especially if you let me have a taste."

He licked his lips, his eyes hooded and dark. His gaze fell to Fadel's mouth, and the way the other man's tongue darted out to wet his lips made Style's cock twitch in interest.

"Just tell me where and when."

Fadel cleared his throat, shifting the bag on his shoulder. He then sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm in a hurry, can you stop messing around?"

Style brought a hand to his chest in mock offense, his face the picture of shock. "Messing around? I am very professional. It's my job to try and sell meat and—" he leaned even further across the counter, "—I'd be happy to give you a sample of what I have."

"You're ridiculous."

"I have other customers, too. Please just let him buy the meat." The older woman seemed a bit exasperated, and Style gave her an apologetic grin.

"Of course, auntie, sorry." He turned back to Fadel with an even wider grin. "I'll sell to you on one condition: you let me eat at your place for a week. For free. And you can't throw me out, either."

Fadel shifted, working his jaw. The eye twitch was back in business, and all Style wanted to do was jump the counter and gnaw on the man's jaw like a rabid dog, but he held himself back.

"Why should I agree to this?"

"Because the other stands are sold out and if you don't agree, you won't get what you need."

There was a long moment where neither said anything. They just stared at each other, both refusing to look away. The tension was high, and the heat that radiated off of the both of them was so intense, the entire stand was practically melting.

"Fine."

That's how he had ended up at the restaurant conversing with Bison, who told him a very valuable lesson on Fadel: he's rough on the outside... and on the inside.

Hmm. He'd be the judge of that. He was sure there was a way to soften the man up.

He still couldn't wrap his head around it, though. Why did Fadel avoid him, then? If the other day was any indication, the man didn't actually mind his company. So, what was the problem?

Maybe the man just needed more... convincing. A few more rounds of hot, steamy sex and Fadel would be wrapped around his finger. Yes, yes, that sounded about right.

With a determined nod, he made his way deeper into the gym. He was a man on a mission.

After a while, he finally spotted a familiar face, and boy, did that face look good.

Fadel was in a small area near the weights, his back down against the bench. His muscles bulged and flexed as he lifted the weights above him, and Style felt himself drool a little. No matter, he'd wipe it later.

Now, what was the best way to approach him? He had to be smart about this. Should he wait? Or should he walk up now and make a move?

His body was already carrying him across the expanse of the room before he finished the thought, stopping right behind Fadel's bench. In the middle of Fadel's rep, Style gripped the bar and helped a confused Fadel place it back onto the holder.

Leaning over to put himself into Fadel's view, Style smirked, loving the way the man's brows furrowed but smoothed out the moment he saw Style.

"If the next set is too much, let me help." He added a wink for good measure, and his smirk widened when Fadel rolled his eyes. 

Fadel pushed himself up into a sitting position, scoffing lightly. "I know my limits."

Style hummed, grasping onto the bar of the equipment and swinging himself around so he was at Fadel's side. Fadel looked up and made eye contact with Style, and Style felt a jolt of electricity go through his body. His eyes wandered over Fadel's body, and oh, how he wished the man were naked so he could admire every little bit.

Fadel's voice snapped him out of his little reverie. "How did you find my gym?"

Cute. He was totally onto him, but Style would never in a million years admit it was Bison who told Kant who then told Style his personal schedule. That would probably be a death sentence for all of them.

So instead, Style sputtered, trying his best to actually sound surprised and genuinely affronted. "This is a public gym, it's open twenty-four-seven." He waved his free hand obnoxiously in Fadel's face who battered it away with a frown. "Seven-hundred and ninety-nine baht a month. I could never miss out on such a good deal."

Fadel made a small, annoyed noise that had Style's stomach doing flips.

"If you plan to frequent this place," Fadel started, his tone cool and calm, "come during the day. I come here at night."

Style huffed a small, flirty laugh, his eyes hooded as he stared down at Fadel's body. "What, we can't show up at the same time?"

"No."

Oh, the sass. Style was a big fan.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Big fan he was.

Clearly believing their conversation was over, Fadel laid back down, ready to start his reps again, but Style refused to leave without getting a last word in. Moving smoothly, Style parked himself right in between Fadel's legs, placing a knee onto the bench, getting nice and snug against the man's crotch.

Style leaned over Fadel, not missing the way the man's eyes widened marginally and the small breath that left his parted lips. Style's hands moved to grab the bar and he gave a small, suggestive smile. "If you need a spotter, just let me know." 

With that, Style walked off, feeling a bit smug. Oh, yes.

It's on.

•••

Style watched as Fadel made his way to the steam room, planning his next move. He knew exactly what to do to get the man, and if his plan worked, Fadel would be his.

He followed Fadel, waiting a few minutes before he entered the steam room, making sure no one else was in there. The last thing he needed was someone witnessing him seduce Fadel, and then have the man ignore him for another week.

Once the coast was clear, he opened the door to the room, a blast of hot steam hitting him full force. He walked in as casually as he could muster, pretending to be surprised to see Fadel already in there.

And fuck, did he look good. His body was gorgeous and the beads of sweat dripping down his skin was mesmerizing. Fadel's naked chest was exactly what Style had imagined. All he wanted to do was lick the sweat right off each defined pec.

"Hot, isn't it?" Style said nonchalantly, hoping his tone wasn't too fake. He didn't wait for Fadel to respond, instead, he began his little plan by removing the towel from his waist, making a show of it. He threw it down on the bench next to Fadel and made his way to the bench directly behind him. 

Laying down, he ran a hand through his dampening hair, pushing the stray locks out of his face. Fadel kept sneaking quick glances, thinking he was being inconspicuous about it, but Style noticed and smiled, completely smug about it.

After a moment, Fadel spoke up, his voice devoid of any emotion, but Style knew better. "What are you doing?"

Style propped himself up on his elbows, running another hand through his hair, feeling the sweat gather. He licked his lips, loving the way Fadel's eyes were glancing over him. "What? Does my naked body make you feel uncomfortable?"

Fadel didn't say anything, and Style took that as his cue to continue.

"I like to have the heat seep through every pore of my body." Style shifted, just barely, but Fadel's eyes were on him like a hawk, watching his every move. "You're allowed to look, you know," he practically purred, and his grin grew when Fadel looked away quickly.

"I'm not looking."

"I don't mind if you are. I know it's hard to look away, I've been told I'm irresistible."

Style could practically hear the eye roll.

"... Is this your attempt at seducing me?"

No... Of course not.

"Maybe," Style shrugged. "Is it working?"

Fadel didn't reply, instead, he kept his gaze focused on the opposite end of the steam room, leaning back further into the bench. Style frowned. Okay, he needed to kick it up a notch.

Planting both hands loudly onto the bench with an echoing slap, he felt a triumphant smirk make it's way across his face as Fadel turned back to give him a deadpan stare. Style pushed himself up and watched as Fadel's eyes widened just an fraction, his eyes drifting down then back up to Style's eyes.

Style plopped himself down heavily next to Fadel, throwing an arm across the back of the bench. The look Fadel gave him was unamused, but Style could see the interest in his eyes.

Just a little more.

Fadel's stare was heated now, his pupils blown wide, and Style felt his heart race. He felt a surge of arousal flow through him, and he knew Fadel had to be feeling the same. He just needed a push to get this thing started.

Style's eyes drifted over the man, musing to himself how fucking hot he was. The way Fadel's lips were parted and his chest heaved and his cheeks flushed, his skin slick with sweat; he was a vision. Style had never seen a man so attractive, and fuck, he needed him.

He began leaning in slowly, essentially at a snail's pace, but the moment his eyes flicked down, he noticed a small patch of ink on the man's abdomen and Style suddenly had a different plan than what he had originally intended.

Instead of kissing him, Style ducked down, still going as slow as possible, and brushed a hand against the tattoo, mesmerized. Fadel was breathing a bit heavier, now, and the way his body trembled slightly was intoxicating.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo," Style mused, and his fingers danced along the ink. He wanted to run his tongue over it. He also wanted to lick something else, but that's besides the point.

Fadel hadn't said anything or whacked him upside the head, so Style took that as a good sign. His fingers were still trailing across the design, and he loved the way the man shuddered at his touch, the way the muscles tensed with each pass of his fingers.

Feeling brave, Style let his hand dip lower, right into the towel that was wrapped tightly around his waist. 

The two didn't say anything, but Style knew he won the moment Fadel tilted his hips, just slightly. And whether or not it was intentional, it gave Style the opportunity to slide his hand beneath the material, his fingers dancing along Fadel's cock.

He was hard, and oh, did that turn him on. He didn't look up at Fadel, but he heard the sharp intake of breath, and that was enough for him.

"Mm, so you do like me." Style grinned, and his fingers wrapped around the base. The grip was loose and lazy, and his hand moved achingly slow. "Do you think of me when you jerk off?"

There was a pause and Fadel let out a small puff of air through his nose. "Why are you asking this?"

"Oh, come on, I know you think about me," Style teased, his tone joking, and his hand tightened around the shaft. "I bet you fantasize about fucking me again."

"You're a nuisance," Fadel mumbled, and the way his voice came out a little breathless made Style's own cock twitch.

"Am I really?" Style purred, and he leaned closer, his body almost pressing up against the side of the other man. His hand was stroking lazily, and he could feel the pre-come coating his palm. The slide of his hand was starting to be easier, the slickness guiding him. "Because I think you like me."

"I don't."

"Really?" Style asked, and his hand stopped. He finally looked up, and his gaze was hooded and dark. Their faces were so close, and the heat was practically rolling off the both of them. It was a different heat than that of the sauna, this was a lustful heat. "Your body seemed to like me when you fucked me in my car last week."

Styled shifted and his lips were suddenly on Fadel's neck, nipping and licking and biting. Surprisingly, Fadel just let it happen. He didn't grumble or push Style away, and in fact, he leaned his head back, baring his neck more.

That was all the invitation Style needed. He was practically on top of the man, his body pressed up against him, his mouth still working his neck. Style's hand was still beneath the towel, stroking his cock slowly, and his hips nearly ground into Fadel's side. Style left kisses from Fadel's neck to his collarbone, where he bit down hard, but the only reaction he got was a low grunt.

His lips trailed down to his pec, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat, and Style felt his head swim.

"Oh, I've been thinking about you," Style murmured against his skin. "I've been dreaming about this."

His lips trailed down the defined abs, his tongue following the ridges. His hand was still stroking, his grip tight and the movements a bit faster. He wondered briefly if Fadel would let him suck him off. Just the thought of having the man's length down his throat had him shuddering in anticipation, a soft moan making its way past his lips.

He pulled away, his gaze flicking up, and he was met with a heated, intense stare.

"Can I suck you off?"

Fadel's gaze narrowed, but he didn't exactly say no. He didn't really say yes either, but Style took it as a 'yes.'

"You know, you're so hot, it's a crime." Style grinned, and he pulled his hand out of the towel, moving down the bench and onto his knees, settling in between Fadel's spread legs. His hands slid up the thick thighs, his eyes glued onto the large tent in the towel.

He was going to make the man feel so good, it'd be hard for him to resist Style afterwards.

"So, can I?"

There was a pause, and a moment where the only sounds were their breaths and the faint drip of water as the steam collected along the walls. But then, an extremely quiet, almost breathless, "yes."

Fuck, Style loved it when the man sounded like that. He didn't have to be told twice, as he was already ripping off Fadel's towel, his eyes wide and his grin wide and toothy. He tossed the fabric aside and his attention was immediately drawn to the leaking cock in front of him.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

Without warning, his hand wrapped around the base, his grip tight. Style was salivating, his mouth watering, and the moment his lips wrapped around the head, his eyes fell shut. He heard Fadel let out a breath when he tongued at the slit and sucked.

A hand found its way into Style's damp hair, tugging and gripping, and Style moaned, and he knew the vibrations would have Fadel squirming. He moved his hands to grip and Fadel's thighs, and he sunk down lower, taking him deeper, his nose almost touching the pubic bone.

The musky smell and taste and feel of Fadel's cock was intoxicating, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his eyelids falling closed. He moaned again, his tongue licking and lapping, and the way the man was tugging and pulling on his hair sent waves of pleasure down his spine.

Fadel swore under his breath, tightening his hold on Style's hair, and Style glanced up at him through his eyelashes, his eyes dark and hazy.

It was so hot, being on his knees for Fadel. Being controlled and used and the way the man pulled, gripped and curled his hair around his fingers was addicting. And the noises Fadel was making— breathy, quiet little groans and swears, and the way he would come close to almost gasping when Style would swallow around him, and the way his hips would give a little stutter, it was all driving Style crazy.

Style was hard, almost agonizingly. Pre-come dripped down lewdly onto the floor beneath him, and he was so desperate for a release, but he wouldn't touch himself. Not yet, anyway.

He bobbed his head, his hand coming away from Fadel's thigh to stroke what his mouth couldn't take, and his tongue flicked at the head before sucking on the tip. His free hand wandered over Fadel's abdomen, tracing the lines of the tattoo, his fingertips brushing against the sweat-slick skin.

Style let out a small keen the moment Fadel's hand moved to the back of his head, his nails digging into his scalp, and his hips were lifting, trying to bury his cock even deeper into the wet heat, and Style happily obliged as much as he could.

His head bobbed up and down, his mouth tight and wet and warm, and he could feel the way Fadel was trembling, the way his muscles flexed and tensed, and the way his cock twitched inside his mouth.

Style wanted to lift off and tell Fadel he's welcome to fuck his throat, but the hand that was currently curled possessively at the nape of his neck prevented him. Although, Fadel seemed to catch on quickly. That, or he had the same thought, because in the next moment, Style had barely enough time to adjust before Fadel's hips snapped forward, the cock sliding down his throat. He gagged, his eyes squeezing shut, and his head was forced to take the man's length, his throat constricting and tightening. His hands scrambled for purchase on Fadel's waist, digging his nails into the soft, sweaty skin.

"Shit," Fadel hissed, his eyes squeezed shut. Style could feel him pulsating inside his mouth, and the way his grip on his hair was almost painful.

He loved it.

He gagged again, his nose touching the dark curls, and he breathed in deeply through his nose, loving the musky smell of the man. Style hummed and swallowed around him, and Fadel let out a soft, low noise, his head falling back. He loved that he could make Fadel come undone like this, could force the little noises past his parted lips.

Style could feel the pre-come leak out the slit and drip onto his tongue, and the taste was exquisite. If he were to die, here and now, he'd go happily, knowing he got to experience this.

His hands moved, gripping onto the muscular thighs, and he dug his nails into the skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks behind. Fadel's hand was pushing and pulling on his head, and Style was almost in a daze, letting Fadel do whatever he wanted with him.

It was so hot, the way the man was using him. His mouth was stretched around his cock, drool dripping down his chin, and the noises were obscene, sloppy and wet and messy. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess, and his eyelashes were clumped together, and he had never looked better. He knew this was a good look on him, and he hoped Fadel appreciated it.

"Sty— ah, shit."

And fuck, his voice was deep and husky and the way his voice broke in the middle was so fucking attractive, Style let his eyes roll into the back of his head, the sound of Fadel's moans and grunts spurring him on.

When the grip on his hair tightened, Style knew he was getting close, and he redoubled his efforts, hollowing his cheeks and sucking as hard as he could. His jaw was beginning to ache, but the way Fadel was panting, his chest rising and falling quickly, the way his muscles were tight and his body was taut, was all worth it.

He felt his own cock throb, and Style let out a whimper, the sound muffled and gurgled.

Fadel's hips were lifting, his movements beginning to stutter, and Style could feel the way his arousal was twitching, his mouth full and slick with his spit and the Fadel's pre-come.

"I'm—"

His voice was low and his breathing was heavy, and Style felt a rush of satisfaction flow through him. He didn't let him finish his sentence, and he hoped he conveyed how much he wanted Fadel to come down his throat by swallowing and humming around the thick cock in his mouth, pressing in even closer.

He swallowed again, and the low strangled noise that left Fadel's mouth had Style's cock jerking. The way Fadel's fingers tugged and pulled on his hair was delicious, and the pain and the pleasure was overwhelming, mixing into one big ball of pure sensation.

One last suck and Fadel was coming, his cock spurting hot ribbons down Style's throat. He drank him down, his throat swallowing around him, and he felt his own orgasm creep up, the way Fadel manhandled him by gripping at his hair tightly when he came.

But, Fadel was still riding out his orgasm, his hips moving just barely, the thrusts slow and languid, and Style took him, his eyes glazed over, his eyelids heavy.

When Fadel was finally finished, he slowly let go of Style's hair, and Style lifted off, gasping and panting for air, his mouth a mess, his cheeks flushed a bright, healthy red. Style coughed once, then twice, his throat a little sore, but the feeling was amazing.

"Holy fuck," Style gasped, his eyes wide and his voice wrecked.

He wiped the corner of his mouth, his hand coming away slick and sticky, feeling that his face was a complete mess. Style didn't mind, though. 

His own cock was still aching and leaking, and his eyes flicked up to Fadel, whose gaze was glued to him. He was leaning back, breathing heavily, his spent, spit-slicked cock softening against his abdomen, and fuck, the sight was absolutely delicious.

"Please, let me come, I'm so fucking hard," Style whined, his lips formed a pout and his eyelashes bat lustfully. He wrapped his fingers around his own arousal, hissing at the contact, and his hand stroked almost lazily, teasing himself. It wasn't going to take much to get him to come, but he felt like he needed Fadel's approval first.

That must've done something to Fadel, because the man was sitting up and suddenly, his hand was gripping the back of Style's head, forcing him forward. His mouth was on his, and Style groaned, letting the man kiss him.

Fadel's kisses were aggressive and demanding, and it practically drove Style up the wall. His kisses were so hot and his lips were warm and slick, and the way the man's tongue forced its way into his mouth had him keening in delight. Their teeth clacked a bit with how rushed and needy the kiss was, but Style didn't care, all he cared about was how he was successful in his little mission and how much he wanted to come.

The kiss lasted a few moments, and Style was so close, all he wanted was Fadel's go-ahead, but Fadel pulled away, and the whine that escaped him was loud and high-pitched and wanton.

"Oh, please, I'm so fucking close, please let me—"

"Shut up."

The tone was harsh and stern and Style's cock gave a violent jerk in response. Fadel's fingers tightened their hold in his hair, his eyes intense, and the way his lips were curved down into a frown had Style's mouth falling open, a breathy moan escaping him.

"A-ah— I-I, oh, f-fuck, just—"

His hips were grinding forward, his fist still working his cock, and his other hand gripped onto Fadel's forearm, his nails digging into the flesh, his body trembling with pure need. He was so close, so fucking close, all he needed was the okay and—

"No."

That one word had him almost crying, and his hips stuttered, his hand moving even slower. "W-what?" he gasped out, his teary eyes wide with barely concealed surprise.

"No."

Fadel's lips were close to his, their mouths barely touching, and Style could feel the hot air hit his face as he spoke. His voice was firm and unwavering, and Style didn't know whether to cry or moan.

"I-I— w-what?"

"Don't you dare come," Fadel continued, his fingers twisting the strands of hair in his grip. "I don't think you deserve it. Was this your plan all along, hm? Do you always follow around every man you fuck?"

Style keened breathlessly, his tone whiny and desperate. "Only you, only y-you," he murmured, and his hips jerked unwittingly, his body trying to reach the orgasm it craved. "Please, p-please."

"Beg all you want, I won't let you."

That's... Oh, that's fucking hot.

"Fuck, Fadel, y-you're killing me here," Style all but gasped out, his cock twitching, his balls aching. His fist was moving so slowly, but the drag of his hand was almost too much.

"Stop."

He immediately stopped.

"Don't touch yourself."

"F-fuck."

His hand was still gripping onto the man's forearm, and he had the sudden urge to sink his teeth into the flesh on his wrist. Or suck on his fingers. Or both, both is good.

Fadel twisted the dark strands of Style's hair between his fingers, the action feeling almost possessive. Style whined, pushing into the feeling, looking at Fadel in the eyes with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

"You're such a persistent, annoying idiot, you know that, right?"

Style luckily still had some of his wit left, and his lips curled into a smirk, his eyelids heavy. "Is it working? Because you're talking about me a lot, and I bet that means you like me."

"Don't push it."

"You're not saying no."

Fadel didn't say anything. He just stared, his expression blank, and his brown eyes were intense, and it was all Style could do to not grab onto his dick and come right then and there.

They stared for what felt like forever, the only sound in the humid room was of their labored breathing. The way Fadel's gaze was piercing had Style's cock jumping, and he let out a small, breathy moan, his eyes wide and pleading.

"You're a real piece of work, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Style murmured. "I'm a real piece of art, if you ask me. Thank you for the compliment."

"Ridiculous."

"In fact," Style started, and that's when he began shifting, slowly, achingly. "I'm willing to show you just how well-crafted I am."

He climbed onto Fadel's lap, straddling his hips. Style was still agonizingly, achingly hard, his cock leaking, the tip purple and swollen, and he was almost tempted to take himself in hand again. Almost. But the way Fadel's gaze darkened prevented him.

Instead, he let his arms wrap around the man's neck, his fingers dancing along his shoulder blades, his fingernails lightly dragging along the flesh. He didn't miss the way Fadel shuddered lightly and he grinned. Okay, last part of his original plan for get-Fadel-to-notice-him-and-fuck-him-again was a go.

"You're so hot," Style breathed wantonly, his mouth falling open when the man's large hands grabbed onto his hips, his fingers tight and bruising. "I think about you when I jerk off, and fuck, it's so good."

Fadel's eyes narrowed, and Style almost squealed, the intensity of his gaze had him so turned on, he was surprised he hadn't come just from looking at the man.

"You're insatiable."

"Yes," Style breathed, and his hips were rolling, grinding down onto the other man's lap, his cock sliding against his abdomen, smearing his pre-come. "And I can't help it, you're irresistible."

"I should go and leave you like this, it would teach you a lesson."

"But you won't. Especially not after I just sucked your soul out through your dick."

The grin on Style's face was cheeky, and Fadel rolled his eyes. Style shifted, his cock sliding against the man's, and his hands were wandering, trailing up his arms, his shoulders, and the way Fadel's muscles moved and twitched beneath his fingertips had him letting out a low, drawn-out moan.

"You're a slut."

"And proud," Style replied, his head thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his hips moving, the friction against his cock feeling so good. "But only for you, sexy."

The way the man's cock hardened beneath him was all the proof Style needed to know that his little plan was a success.

"I think you like me," Style sing-songed, ending in a breathless little laugh.

Fadel didn't reply, and his silence was the only answer Style needed.

"Are you going to fuck me now? Because if not, I'm sure I can find someone else who will." He knew that little comment would work. It worked last time, and Style had a feeling it would work this time, too.

He didn't have to wait long for his response. In fact, he barely blinked before his mouth was suddenly being kissed, his lips attacked. It was all teeth and tongue and it was aggressive and hot, and the way Fadel's hands were pulling him closer had his head spinning.

Fadel's tongue was forceful, and Style happily opened his mouth for him, moaning lewdly, his cock grinding down onto his lap.

"Come on, baby," Style purred, his words were muffled by the mouth on his. "Take me, make me yours."

"Not here," Fadel murmured against his lips, and Style let out a noise of complaint. "Not here," the man repeated, and the way his voice was so stern was just so damn attractive.

"Why not?" Style wriggled his hips, a coy grin on his face that melted away with another one of Fadel's kisses. "Anyone could walk in at any moment, and I've already sucked your cock, so the chances are still the same. Come on, you can take me right here."

He knew the man was going to say no, but the way Fadel's cock twitched told him otherwise.

"Oh, do you like that idea?" Style purred, his tone incredibly provocative. His hand wandered lower, his fingertips tracing along the ink of Fadel's tattoo. "I'd love for anyone to walk in and see you fucking me. They'd know you're mine and I'm yours."

Fadel's eyebrow twitched. "We're not—"

"Sure we are," Style cut him off, and the look the man gave him had him practically giggling. Again, he rolled his hips and the slide of his cock had him groaning, his head thrown back. "Come on, whaddya say?"

Fadel was quiet for a moment, his hands resting on Style's hips, his thumbs rubbing circles against his skin. After a while, his voice came out, low and strained. "No."

Style pouted, feeling disappointment wash over him in waves. "Don't leave me hanging at least, I'll be sad."

"You're the worst."

"That's not a no, you're just avoiding the question."

Fadel didn't reply, but he did wrap a hand around Style's cock and began stroking. Style gasped, his body jolting, and his hips rolled desperately into the touch, his eyes falling shut in pure bliss. The pace was fast, quick and almost painful, and the grip was a little too tight. It was amazing.

"Mmh— Ah— fuck," Style breathed, his head thrown back, his hips canting towards the friction. His mouth fell open and his eyes squeezed shut as wave after wave of pleasure began shooting down his spine. "Yes, yes, yes."

"I can't stand you," Fadel growled suddenly, his lips appearing on Style's neck, nipping and biting and sucking and licking, and Style was losing his mind.

"You keep telling yourself that," Style managed, his voice sounded choked and breathless. He could feel the orgasm build up, the heat pooling in his gut, his legs beginning to tremble. A thought occured to him, and with half of his mind still functioning, he managed to reach between them and grab hold of Fadel's own arousal. The sound he made was like heaven to Style, and the way the man's hand faltered, his hips bucking into the contact, had his own cock pulsating.

"Ah— a-ah— I'm g-gonna come," Style gasped, his fist moving, the pace stuttering and messy, his movements uncoordinated. He felt the heat and pressure building and building, and the pleasure was so overwhelming, his vision was starting to spot and fuck—

The other hand that was gripping Style's waist came up to tangle in his hair, bringing him closer, and the way their mouths were connected, hot and wet and slick, had Style practically crying. He could feel the tears prickle behind his closed eyelids.

The pleasure, the humid heat of the room, Fadel's body pressed against his, his hand around his cock, and his mouth on his, his own hand around Fadel's cock, it was all too much.

He broke away from the kiss, lips just millimeters away from Fadel's, their labored breaths mingling. He could feel his orgasm right there, so close, and Style knew he couldn't hold out, so with one last breathy, high-pitched moan against Fadel's lips, he came, his cock pulsating and spurting ribbons of white across Fadel's abdomen.

"Fuck," Fadel muttered, pulling his hand away from Style's spent cock, placing it over Style's. His hand had stilled when he came, but now that he was riding his high, he began to lazily pump Fadel's cock again, making Fadel's own hand move with him.

"Your turn, sexy," he slurred, his mind foggy with pleasure.

Style was still practically gasping for air, his heart beating wildly in his chest, but he still closed the last few millimeters, his lips connecting with Fadel's in a lazy, wet, open-mouthed kiss, full of tongue and sin.

Fadel bucked up once into Style's loose grip, jostling Style and causing his hand to tighten, and that seemed to be the tipping point for Fadel. He came, not making a noise, but breathing out into the now one-sided kiss, his mouth movements uncoordinated and too focused on his own pleasure to continue kissing properly.

Their hands were a mess, but neither really cared. Style was practically a puddle on top of Fadel. He slumped forward, pushing his face into Fadel's sweaty neck, breathing in deeply, trying to get his breathing back to normal.

After a while, the two were quiet, the only sound was their breaths. The room was now way too humid and hot and the smell of sweat and sex was a little strong, but Style didn't mind. In fact, he liked it.

"Are you going to stop annoying me, now?"

Style pulled his head back, giving Fadel a mock offended look, feeling almost like himself again. "Annoying you? You love it."

Fadel didn't even try to fight him. Instead, he pushed Style off of his lap—who whined loudly in protest—and stood, grabbing his towel. He wrapped it around his waist and began walking to the steam room's door.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"Home."

"But what about me?"

"Do what you want," Fadel said, opening the door, and he looked back. There was a small smirk on his face that made Style's heart pound wildly in his chest. "You're good at that."

And then he was gone, the steam room door shutting quietly behind him.

Oh, he'll do exactly what he wants. And what he wants is to have Fadel all to himself.

He was so whipped, it wasn't even funny.

The door opened again, and an elderly man walked in, not giving Style any mind.

With a grin, he stood up and grabbed his own towel, wrapping it around his waist, and followed after Fadel.

"Hey, Fadel, wait up!"