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Style couldn’t get the way Fadel responded to praise out of his head.
The night after he discovered Fadel’s hidden praise kink, he kept replaying the look he was given when he praised his boyfriend and the way Fadel fucked him faster, as if his entire being relied on making sure Style felt good.
Fadel in that moment reminded Style of a puppy.
It was upon this revelation that he got an idea, one that kept him awake even with Fadel pressed against his back and an arm around his waist, the older man having long since fallen asleep.
The couple was no stranger to scenes. Fadel loved seeing Style fall apart over and over again, whether he was soft or stricter with the younger. They often brought in toys or restraints—though it was normally Style being tied up while Fadel had his way with him. He loved giving up all control and allowing Fadel to do as he pleased with him. The serene feeling of subspace, knowing his boyfriend would take care of him, was something Style often looked forward to.
Tilting his head, Style could see the calmness of sleep on Fadel’s face. He always looked so peaceful when he slept, especially when he had Style in his arms like he did now. His face was practically buried in Style’s neck, soft puffs of air brushing against the warm skin.
“My puppy,” Style mumbled, just to himself. He felt arms tighten around his waist, though the owner of said arms remained asleep.
With that, he vowed to dedicate the next morning, after Fadel left for work, to… research.
───
A few days later, Style wrapped his arms around Fadel, chest flush against his back while the older man scrubbed their breakfast dishes. He allowed himself a brief moment of peace, listening to Fadel hum a song that played on the radio earlier that morning.
“Fadel,” Style said quietly, pressing a quick kiss to the man’s shoulder.
“Hm?”
Style bit the inside of his cheek. “...I want to try something new. In the bedroom.”
Fadel finished drying the plate in his hands and put it on the drying rack before turning to give Style his full attention. “Oh? What do you want to try, baby?”
Instead of answering directly, Style slowly ran his fingers through Fadel’s hair and leaned in closer. “You’re always so good to me, you know that, right? You make me feel so good every time.”
Attuned to Fadel’s microexpressions, Style was able to catch the quick shift before Fadel hid it.
“I know,” Fadel said, his voice slightly lower. “You always tell me.” He dried his hands so he could rest them on Style’s hips, thumbs rubbing the skin above the sweatpants that hung low. “But you didn’t answer me, baby. What do you want to try?”
Style leaned in even more, his lips brushing against Fadel’s ear. “I want to make you feel as good as I do, puppy.”
The reaction was instantaneous. This close, Style could feel the harsh shudder that resonated through Fadel’s entire body and the fractured breath he let out. Large hands tightened on his hips, fingers digging in enough to bruise, then strong arms wrapped around his waist.
“Say that again.” Fadel’s voice was almost broken.
“Puppy?” Style whispered in Fadel’s ear, stroking the back of his neck. “My puppy. Always making me feel so good, always so good for me—and only me.”
Fadel’s head fell to rest on Style’s shoulder, his chest quickly rising and falling. “I am,” he said, so softly. “Just for you, only for you.”
Style did not expect Fadel to slip this quickly, but it showed how much he truly trusted him. Since they had yet to talk about anything, he copied what Fadel had done in the past to pull him out of subspace. He coaxed the older man’s head from his neck, both hands on either side of his face.
“Look at me, baby,” Style said gently, rubbing his thumbs over Fadel’s cheeks like the man had done to his hips. “Come back to me, hm?”
It took a minute or two before the slight glaze over Fadel’s eyes faded. He closed his eyes, nuzzling into Style’s hands and kissing the palm of one. He was still taking deep breaths, but they were much slower.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Style said, guilt flooding his body. “I didn’t know you would slip that easily. I should’ve asked before saying it.”
Fadel shook his head, his voice raspy when he spoke. “It’s okay, Style. You brought me out of it, and I didn’t even know I could slip like that.” He opened his eyes, pressing a light kiss to Style’s lips. “We need to talk about it before you say it again, though. I don’t want you to freak out and drop.” He knew Style had never dommed before, always preferring to instead be submissive or a power bottom at most.
Style nodded in agreement, kissing his boyfriend’s forehead. “I’ll finish the dishes for you. Then we can talk?”
“Okay, baby,” Fadel said. He turned them around, his chest against Style’s back, arms still around the tiny waist he loved. He left a lingering kiss on Style’s shoulder before resting his chin there, humming that song once more as he watched his lover clean the few remaining dishes.
Once the kitchen sink was empty and the drying rack was full, Fadel led Style to the living room. They sat down on the couch, hands in each other’s, and there was silence as they both contemplated how to start the conversation.
“So…,” Style finally started, “should I tell you what brought this on?” At Fadel’s nod, he continued. “The other night after the bar, when we fucked, I noticed you… respond similarly to me at praise.”
The barest hint of pink stained Fadel’s face. “Elaborate?”
“I don’t know! You just paused and perked up when I said how good you made me feel, and you went even harder.” Style bit his lip. “You always love making me feel good and floaty, and I could see it in your eyes. If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to, I just…”
He trailed off, not making eye contact. “I want to make you feel as good as you always make me feel. I want to see you be able to not have to be the one always making the decisions and instead let someone else care for you. I want to care for you, if you’ll let me.”
Fadel didn’t respond right away, but Style could feel eyes on the side of his face. A hand appeared in his vision, Fadel’s finger hooking carefully under Style’s chin and turning his head back towards him.
“Baby,” Fadel said gently, “I trust you, you know that, right?”
Style nodded, eyes roaming over Fadel’s face.
“Good. I trust you to take care of me. You always have—outside of the bedroom—and I know you will be so good to me in every situation.” Fadel’s thumb brushed Style’s lower lip. “It may not come easy to me, but I want it, too. I never realized until this morning how badly I want it.”
Style’s face lit up. “Really? You want to?”
Nodding, Fadel’s lips quirked up in a fond smile. “I do. We’ll have to talk more about it and our limits with our roles being switched, but I… I like when you take care of me. You do it so well.” He untangled his other hand from Style’s to pull the younger man into his lap. “I always feel safe around you. You’re my home.”
Their lips met, both men pouring as many emotions into it as they could. Fadel’s arms wrapped around Style’s waist, and Style cradled Fadel’s face in his hands.
A few minutes later, the living room was filled with soft moans, Fadel jerking them off to completion—together.
───
Their schedules aligned a few weeks later, both having the weekend off from their respective jobs. They had talked for a while about how the scene would go, their limits, and how best to go about aftercare as Fadel was usually the one doing it.
Several times leading up to the fateful weekend, they relaxed in their bedroom, Style helping Fadel slip into subspace to grow more comfortable with it. Those nights never ended in anything but kisses and cuddles, soft whispers of reassurance filling the room while candles flickered shadows on the walls.
Friday night, Style arrived home first and threw himself into preparing. He wanted the scene to be perfect for Fadel—nothing was allowed to be out of order. Water bottles stocked in the fridge; their favorite post-scene snacks ready and waiting; the bath bomb that Fadel claimed to dislike, but always relaxed so quickly when Style tossed it into the tub, was sitting on the counter.
He entered their room and took a deep breath. Moving to the headboard of their bed, he reached behind to grab the thick leather straps of the restraints he’d asked Bison to install for them. He double checked that they were secure and rested the ends near their pillows. Style enjoyed being restrained much more than Fadel, but Fadel gave him the green light for this scene, as he had been tied up several times by Style and was comfortable with the idea of being restrained while in subspace.
The thought of Fadel being tied to the bed, staring up at Style with that trusting, loving look of adoration he’d given him many times these past few weeks… Style had to shake his head to clear it, lest he end up jerking off before Fadel even got home.
There was less than an hour left until the older man was meant to arrive. Style quickly jumped in the shower, making sure he was clean, but not touching himself past that. He had plans that he knew would work Fadel up—ones he’s used in the past that were extremely effective.
A smirk played on his lips as he got out of the shower and quickly changed. His clothes, like everything else, were planned carefully. Fadel never got to see him in the light pink crop top and off-white khakis (one of Style’s best outfits, if he did say so himself), since he was in prison at the time. Style saved it for one of these moments, and he was very glad he had. He latched a necklace Fadel bought him around his neck. It was small and had a short cord, resting at the top of his collarbones.
After running around their house and checking everything, Style nervously settled onto the couch. This was the only part of tonight that he couldn't figure out—where to sit or stand for when Fadel came in. Should he lounge on the couch, an open invitation? No, that was what he did when he wanted Fadel to take charge. Standing in the middle of their living room seemed too awkward. He wanted Fadel to see him right away, so going back to their room was out of the question.
While Style was deep in thought, the lock clicked and the front door opened. His head shot up, hands suddenly clammy. Time passed too fast, or he must have been figuring out his welcome home pose for too long.
“Style?” Fadel called, unable to see him due to the wall that separated them. He dropped his bag by the entry way, a soft thud that was loud in the quiet of their home.
“In here,” Style responded, wiping his hands on his pants. He could do this. He wanted to do this.
Fadel came around the corner and froze, eyes darting down to the crop top adorning Style’s body. “I’ve never seen that one before,” he said, throat working around a swallow. “Is it new?” He was clearly just as nervous as Style, and that helped the younger man calm himself.
“No,” Style said. He slowly stood, watching the way Fadel’s gaze glued itself to his waist. “You never got to see it before tonight, unfortunately.” He took a step closer, then another, making sure the crop top moved just right. “I wore it when we met with the Captain to sneak into prison for you. This exact outfit.”
The words hit like Style hoped they would. Fadel’s eyes darkened, dragging down Style’s figure then back up to his waist. He briefly raised a hand then dropped it; he wasn’t told he could touch, so he kept his hands to himself.
Good, Style purred in his head, a sly smile breaking out on his face. He was now a step away from Fadel, and the older man clenched his jaw from the proximity.
“Did you… Is that my cologne?” Fadel said, voice cracking halfway through as he looked anywhere but at his boyfriend. It had only been a few minutes, and Style’s presence alone affected him this badly.
“It is,” Style said. “I wanted to smell like you.”
Fadel closed his eyes, clearly biting back a groan at the admission. “Fuck,” he mumbled. He opened his eyes again and a now familiar look was in them. “Can I touch you?”
“Not yet, puppy.” Style reached up and caressed Fadel’s cheek, watching closely as he nuzzled into the hand. He could see him slipping into subspace and his heart warmed. “Can you get on your knees for me?”
The sight of Fadel instantly dropping to his knees would be seared into Style’s brain for all of eternity. He gazed up at Style, eyes wide, hands resting on his own thighs. He painted such a beautiful picture that Style wanted to pull out his phone to immortalize this moment.
“Good boy,” he said, combing his fingers through Fadel’s hair. “What’s your color, baby?”
“Green,” Fadel responded, voice calm and stable.
“Thank you, baby.” Style gave him a soft smile, one that was easily returned. “Do you want to take off my pants for me?”
Fadel nodded, then remembered their verbal rule. “Please.” His hands shook from holding himself back, wanting so badly to touch Style’s legs, his hips, his thighs—anywhere he could get his hands on. Anywhere that Style would allow him to touch.
“Go ahead, then.”
Large hands hesitantly came up and rested on the button of Style’s pants. Fadel undid it and dragged the zipper down, unconsciously licking his lips. Khakis were tugged down Style’s legs, revealing the soft, smooth skin with faded marks. Style stepped out of his pants, Fadel tossing them onto the couch. His gaze flicked up, asking for permission that was granted with a simple nod.
The room went silent as Fadel’s fingers curled into the black boxers and slowly pulled them down. Style’s cock bobbed up the moment the fabric slid past it. Fadel couldn’t help but stare, as if he hadn't spent many hours in the past worshiping it, and he’d spend many hours in the future doing just that. He leaned closer, resting his head on Style’s upper thigh and inhaling like a man starved. His hands fell back on his own thighs, fingernails cutting into his jeans.
“You want to suck me off badly, huh, puppy?” Style’s hand was back in the other man’s hair. He was beginning to understand how people got off on their partner being so pliant and submissive for them.
“Please, Style,” Fadel said, tilting his head up. “Wanna make you feel good.”
That went to Style’s head and cock. He bit his lip to keep himself from jumping on Fadel right then and there. “Keep your hands on my thighs. It’s all yours, baby.”
As if Style’s thighs were a magnet, Fadel’s hands flew up to them, running up and down the pale skin. Style held his cock out and Fadel, keeping eye contact, kissed the tip. A small shudder went through Style’s entire body. His grip tightened in the other man’s hair, softly exhaling through his nose.
Fadel lightly squeezed Style’s thighs then took the head of the cock in his mouth. He swirled his tongue, taking his time as he worked his way down to the base. His eyes remained on Style’s face and the way the younger man’s head tilted back, eyelids fluttering shut. Style’s mouth was parted and soft moans fell from it the more Fadel licked and sucked.
Though he wasn’t as much of a talker as Style, Fadel was too good with his mouth. His tongue ran along the vein underneath Style’s cock. He hollowed out his cheeks, moaning at the way Style yanked at his hair in response.
“Fuck,” Style said, breathless. “God, your mouth is so good.”
Fadel’s fingers dug into Style’s thighs and he pulled back to suck the tip of Style’s cock. He used his hold to bring Style closer, his cock hitting the back of Fadel’s throat and his lips being flush against the base.
“Oh my god, Fadel…”
Style tried to push him back by his shoulder, but Fadel didn’t budge. He worked the muscles in his throat and Style nearly keeled over. It was only due to Fadel’s strong hands on his thighs that Style managed to stay standing, though his knees were already weak and starting to shake.
“Puppy, you keep going like that and I’m going to come,” Style said. He looked down—big mistake. Fadel hadn't taken his eyes off Style’s face from the moment he’d gone down on his knees. “You look so good on your knees, baby, fuck. Like a god. Just for me, huh?”
Fadel moaned, eyes closing for a brief moment. He bobbed his head in a faster rhythm than before, clearly wanting Style to come down his throat. He didn’t even let him take a step back.
“You want me to come? Are you going to swallow it all?”
Another moan wrapped around Style’s cock and he brought his hand up to bite his finger to stifle the noise that threatened to escape his mouth. He didn’t have the quickest refractory period—not like Fadel—but with his plans for once they moved to their bed… He could come right here and have no problems being hard again by the time Fadel finally entered him.
“I’m so close, puppy,” he said. “Shit, I’m not gonna…”
Fadel increased his pace, one hand slipping upwards as if to move to Style’s ass, but he corrected himself right away. His eyes were open again and he watched as Style let out a particularly loud moan, then he went all the way down.
Style’s orgasm hit and he yanked harshly on Fadel’s hair. He came down Fadel’s throat (he had no other option with the way Fadel held him) with a curse. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His head hung low and his chest rose and fell rapidly.
Even though Style was the one in charge, Fadel couldn't help but try and control the pace. Not because he struggled to be submissive, but because he wanted to be a good boy for Style and make him feel good. That did things to Style. Once they got into their bedroom, he wouldn’t have to worry much about trying to not fall apart, since Fadel’s hands would be busy.
He opened his eyes and was met with a sight that nearly made him come again. Fadel was alternating between giving kitten licks to his cock and pressing soft kisses to his hips. Below that, almost unnoticeable, was a wet patch in Fadel’s jeans.
Style swallowed hard. “Puppy, did you…”
Fadel didn’t meet his eyes. His ears were a bright red, and he brushed his lips against Style’s hip once more as an apology.
“You made me feel so good that you got off, too?” Style asked lovingly. “That’s so fucking hot.”
If he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have seen the way Fadel nearly rolled his eyes, like he usually did at Style’s antics. That was a good sign—Fadel wasn’t too far gone that standing and moving to the bed would be a struggle.
“Can you stand, baby?” Style asked, reaching for one of Fadel’s hands with his own. “Are your knees okay?”
Fadel laced their fingers together and carefully stood, his free hand sliding up Style’s side and under the crop top. “I’m okay,” he said, rubbing his thumb back and forth on Style’s waist. “Can I get a kiss?”
Style’s heart melted. “Of course you can, puppy.” He cradled Fadel’s jaw with both hands and leaned in. The kiss was gentle and short, giving both of them the reassurance they needed. Style pulled away first, laughing affectionately when Fadel stuck his nose against his cheek.
“You smell like me,” Fadel muttered, breath caressing Style’s ear and making him shiver. “Smells good.”
“I like smelling like you. Makes me feel even more like I’m yours.” Style kissed Fadel’s jaw, then his neck, right over the pulse point.
Fadel’s grip tightened imperceptibly on Style’s waist as he tipped his head to the side, giving his boyfriend more access.
“And you’re mine,” Style said lowly, punctuating the claim with a bite. He soothed it with his tongue, kissing up Fadel’s throat until he made it back up to his lips. “My good puppy.” He latched onto Fadel’s bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it and letting go. “Let’s move to the bedroom, shall we?”
At the delayed nod then verbal confirmation, Style pulled his boxers back up then grabbed Fadel’s hand and led him to their room. The lights were already dimmed, enough to see each other’s faces clearly. Style was a little too excited to see the reactions Fadel would have while under him.
Style sat Fadel down on the edge of their bed and stood in between his legs. The older man’s hands were by his side, and Style bit back his smile. Fadel was being so good for him, not touching him without explicit permission. Style had casually mentioned that when they were planning the scene, but he didn’t expect Fadel to remember it. Style himself forgot about it.
He should’ve known better by now. Fadel never forgets a single thing when it comes to Style.
“Can I take your shirt off, baby?” Style asked, running his hands down Fadel’s biceps and lightly squeezing.
“Yes,” Fadel said, automatically helping by lifting his arms. He let Style take off the black shirt—Style’s favorite one, as it was tight but not too tight on Fadel—and toss it off to the side. His arms dropped right back down, palms flat on the bed.
Style let out a soft chuckle. “You can touch me, puppy.” The polite submission made him even more endeared, and he couldn’t help but smile down at the other man.
Unlike earlier, Fadel cautiously touched Style’s hips. He glanced up for confirmation, which was granted with a nod, and he brought his hands up underneath the crop top, the fabric raising with them to unveil a soft tummy, muscle hidden underneath. Fadel shifted the shirt up and pressed a kiss to Style’s stomach, then another. Style’s muscles contracted at the ticklish sensation. Fadel kissed a little higher, eyelashes fluttering as he looked up. He held Style’s gaze and dragged his lips across the delectable abs in front of him.
“Baby, you’re driving me crazy,” Style exhaled. He stepped closer, one hand settling on the back of Fadel’s neck. “Are you trying to derail all of my plans? Do you not want to know what’s coming next?”
“I’m probably coming next,” Fadel mumbled under his breath.
Style’s pointer finger curled under Fadel’s chin, tilting his head back. “I’ll be next, unless you be a good boy and lay back. Let me take care of you, hm?”
“I’ll be good,” Fadel promised. He kissed Style’s hip one more time then shifted back, hands loosening around the tiny waist.
“I know you will. Can you lie against the pillows for me?” Style gave him room to move, watching how obediently his boyfriend listened. He waited until Fadel was comfortable before joining him, straddling large thighs. “I’m going to restrain your hands now. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Fadel said, his arms flat on the bed, ready for whatever Style gave him.
They practiced this several times, Fadel showing him how to safely restrain someone so it wouldn’t leave harsh marks. Style was worried about hurting him, as that was the last thing he wanted, but Fadel assured him there was padding. After all, Style’s wrists were always fine when Fadel used them on him.
Securing the leather straps and double checking they weren’t too tight, Style sat back with a satisfied grin. “You look so handsome underneath me. All pliant and willing. You’re the best gift, puppy.” He smoothed his hands over Fadel’s bare chest, appreciating the strong muscles. Fadel killed many people in the past, his body honed over many years—and yet here he was, relaxed under Style’s touch and hanging on to his every word and command.
Fadel let out a long breath, closing his eyes for a moment and just feeling. Style’s thumb flicked a nipple and Fadel moaned, arching his chest up. His eyes opened, and Style knew for sure that he was fully in subspace. He recognized that look from the times Fadel fucked him in front of a mirror.
“Can I take your pants off, puppy?” Style asked gently, letting his hands stop so Fadel could answer properly.
“Yes,” Fadel said.
“Good boy.” Style unbuttoned his jeans, getting up for a moment to properly slide them off. He tossed them on the floor next to the bed. “And your underwear, too?”
Fadel nodded.
“Ah, ah,” Style said. “Use your words, baby.”
Leather creaked at the same time Fadel huffed. “Please. Off.” He lifted his hips up, hissing when the band of his underwear grazed his cock, the mess he’d made cool against his skin.
“Sorry, baby.” Fabric hit the floor once more. Style admired the muscular body beneath him, the thick cock that always reached just right inside Style, and how hard Fadel was breathing. “Color?”
“Green,” Fadel answered immediately. “So green.”
“Safeword?”
“Wrench.”
“Good boy.” Style grabbed the hem of his crop top and slowly took it off, letting it drop to the floor with the other clothes. Fadel’s gaze burned into his skin. Style hid his smile, swinging one leg over to settle on Fadel’s thighs. He leaned over Fadel, brushing his lips against the strong jaw, hand creeping under the covers to bring out the bottle of lube he’d hidden there. He sat back, popping open the lid.
Fadel’s eyes snapped to it. Several emotions flickered across his beautiful face.
“I’m going to finger myself,” Style said, letting the liquid drip onto his fingers. He warmed it up and raised himself up so he was hovering over Fadel’s cock. “And you’re going to watch.”
Fadel’s throat worked. One of his favorite things was having Style fall apart on his fingers. They were longer and thicker, and he knew how to twist his wrist just right to turn his boyfriend into a moaning mess.
This was Fadel’s own personal hell. Restrained and not able to make Style feel good, only able to watch.
Style knew he would experience the consequences of this another day, but that was a problem for future him. Present Style circled his index finger around his rim before pushing in. He very rarely fingered himself, since Fadel always jumped at the chance to do it for him, and his fingers didn’t reach as well.
Bracing himself with his free hand on Fadel’s upper chest, he slowly worked his finger in and out. “It doesn’t feel as good as when you do it,” he said. He hadn’t prepped himself in a few days, wanting to make Fadel lose his mind and for the stretch when Style finally sunk down on that cock to be heavenly.
Fadel made a low noise. Leather pulled taut. Fadel arched into Style’s hand, but he shifted it to rest on Fadel’s abs.
“Patience, puppy,” Style said, not reprimanding, but final. “It’s been a while. You don’t want me to hurt when you’re inside me, right?”
“No,” Fadel said, letting his hands drop beside his head. “I can… I can wait. Just wanna touch you.”
Style smiled down at him. “What a sweet boy. If you’re good, I’ll let you touch me. If you aren’t, you won’t be allowed to.”
Fadel stared up at him with wide, almost frantic eyes. “I’ll be good, I promise. Please.”
“I know you will. You’re always so good for me, baby.” Style inserted another finger, a soft moan falling from his lips. “Fuck…”
Moans spilled into the room, curling up the edges of the walls. Fadel kept his gaze intently on the man above him, watching his every move and facial expression as he wished he was the one making him feel good. Style pulled his fingers out to coat them in more lube—much more lube.
The first drop of liquid onto Fadel’s cock made him flinch, his entire body tensing.
Style was grinning, three fingers now working together to open himself up. He continued to hover directly over Fadel’s cock, the older man now realizing the positioning was entirely purposeful.
“You okay, baby?” Style asked innocently, digging his nails into Fadel’s abs.
“You’re evil,” Fadel said, jaw clenching.
“I’m just—” Style cut himself off with a low moan. “Just prepping myself.”
Fadel’s hands clenched. He shifted underneath Style, trying to escape the lube slowly dripping down. Unfortunately for him, Style moved with him, a fourth finger joining the others. He quickened his pace, head falling back and exposing his long throat that Fadel desperately wished to kiss and mark up.
Style’s biceps were flexed, his big chest moving with every breath and thrust of his fingers. The sight caused Fadel’s mouth to water. He was trying so hard to be good, but he wanted nothing more than to break out of the restraints and bury his face in Style’s chest. To grab Style’s impossibly tiny waist and never let go. To bite the wiry muscles of his arms, feeling the strength under his teeth.
“Please, Style,” Fadel said. “I need you.”
Style opened his mouth to respond. His fingers accidentally pushed into his prostate and he nearly doubled over, a loud moan tumbling out. He took his fingers out with a wince, bracing himself with one hand still on Fadel’s abs and the other on the bed sheet.
“Fuck.” Style breathed hard, trying to not come on the spot.
Fadel was silent, though he brought his knees up so Style had something stable behind him. He was told to lie back and let Style do the work, but his boyfriend’s safety always came first. Style used his hand not covered in lube to reach back and rub Fadel’s knee. He lowered himself so he was sitting on Fadel’s hips. Fadel kept his knees up, even when Style sent him a look.
“I’m okay, baby,” Style promised. “Are you still alright to continue?”
Fadel, now a bit more attentive, studied Style, searching for anything he might be hiding from him. “I am, as long as you are.”
Style leaned forward, cupped his cheek, and kissed him. It was another loving kiss. Fadel relaxed into it, chasing Style’s lips when he pulled away.
“I am,” Style said, resting their foreheads together. “Thank you for checking on me, baby.” He pecked Fadel’s lips and smiled. He sat back up, uncapping the bottle of lube and pouring some onto his hand. “I’m going to make both of us feel good. You just lie there and look pretty, baby."
Fadel shuddered. His hips bucked up when Style touched his cock, stroking and making sure it was slick enough. Style held him down, thumb running over the vein underneath his cock like Fadel did to him with his tongue.
“Are you ready, puppy?”
Fadel had never nodded so fast and so much. “Please, Style. I need to be inside you now.”
Appeased, Style wiped his hand on the sheets then got up on his knees. He pressed the head of Fadel’s cock to his hole and slowly began to sink down. He was right—the stretch was otherworldly. Even all these times later, he was still not used to how big Fadel was, but he would never complain about that.
They moaned simultaneously when Fadel was fully inside Style. Taking a moment to breathe and get used to the feeling, Style began rotating his hips in circles, teasing his boyfriend. He couldn't help himself—Fadel was perfect under him.
“Baby,” Fadel said, swallowing a noise. “Style…”
“You want me to move, puppy?”
“Please.”
Style’s face lit up. “Beg for it.”
Fadel froze. He clenched and unclenched his hands, as if he was at war with himself. He never begged Style; it was always the other way around. But…
“Please move, Style,” he said—no, whined. “I just need you to move. I need to touch you, wanna make you feel good, please. I’ll do anything.”
It was music to Style’s ears. Everything he wanted from this night had come true, and now he could focus on reaping the rewards of his careful planning.
“Good boy,” Style said. He rested his hands on Fadel’s pecs like he was holding onto a handle, and began moving. His thighs were trembling already, from his earlier orgasm and fingering himself, and he relied on Fadel’s sturdy body to keep him upright.
Leather creaked once more, louder this time as Fadel struggled against his restraints. “Fuck, baby, can I touch you? Please? I can’t…”
“Can you hold out another minute, puppy?” Style asked, slowing his pace to help Fadel speak without being overwhelmed. “Just another minute, and you’ll be able to touch me.”
“I can—I can do that,” Fadel said shakily. His eyes were completely glazed over as he looked up at Style like he was a god. Fadel’s god, in particular. It was obvious that the moment the restraints came off, Fadel was going to do everything in his power to worship Style and pleasure him.
The thought sent a chill down Style’s spine. “One minute,” he said, increasing his pace once more. He added in little circles every few times his ass hit Fadel’s hips, bringing both of them closer and closer to the edge. “You’re doing so well for me, baby, just like I knew you would. So trusting, so lovely, so perfect and mine.”
Fadel threw his head back, bucking his hips up once. He’d caught the leather in his hands, holding onto it so hard his knuckles turned white. “You’re so—you feel amazing around me, Style,” he managed to stutter out.
“Yeah? Am I making you feel good, puppy?”
“S’ good,” Fadel slurred. “Call me that again.”
Style grinned. “Puppy? My puppy? My good boy?”
Fadel let out a genuine whimper.
Style’s grin dropped. He shut his eyes tight, the feeling in his stomach quickly encroaching. “Baby, you don’t even know what that sound does to me. Hearing you whine and beg for me, all these sounds I’ve never heard before. Just for me, and no one else.”
“Only you,” Fadel promised, looking back up at Style with teary eyes.
Style broke. His hands darted forward, unclasping one of the buckles then the other, freeing Fadel from the restraints. “Go ahead, puppy. Make me feel good.” He held his breath, ass flush with Fadel’s hips, knowing what would come next.
A beat, then Fadel shot up. His arms wrapped fully around Style’s waist, face buried in his chest before Style could blink. He planted his feet and thrusted up, hard, not giving Style a reprieve. He licked and sucked and bit Style’s pecs, swirling his tongue around a nipple and biting it lightly. He hardly even breathed, like Style was his oxygen.
“Oh, fuck, Fadel,” Style moaned loudly. One hand was on the back of Fadel’s head, tangled in the soft hair, and the other held onto a broad shoulder. “I’m—I’m not gonna last like this, puppy.”
Fadel hummed against Style’s skin, sucking a hickey right over his heart. He held even tighter—if that was possible—and sped up his pace. He’d said he just wanted to make Style feel good, and he was very well versed in that exact task.
Style opened his mouth to praise him, but Fadel hit his prostate at the same time, and he moaned directly into Fadel’s ear. He was getting a sense of déjà vu, with the way he curled into his boyfriend and clung harder. “There, right there, oh god, I’m gonna come—”
“Can I touch you?” Fadel asked, breaking away just for the question.
“Please,” Style said. “I’m so close…”
Fadel’s hand began stroking his cock, touch gentle enough to not make Style come right away, but enough that Style’s eyes rolled back. The strokes and thrusts were timed perfectly to bring him right to the edge.
“Are you close?”
Fadel nodded.
Style grabbed his chin, bringing their faces close enough that their lips brushed, their eyes looking into each other’s soul. “Come with me, puppy.”
Fadel tightened his grip on Style’s cock as he came inside him, burying his face in Style’s neck with a whimper. That sound made Style clench around his cock, and he quickly followed, coming in the small space between their bodies. He held onto Fadel even as he shuddered and moaned, vision going black for a brief second.
“My puppy,” he said softly, pressing his lips into Fadel’s hair. “You never fail to make me feel like I’m the only thing that matters.”
“Because you are,” Fadel said into Style’s neck. He kissed the skin there, sniffing audibly.
“Do I still smell like you?”
“You do. Wanna make you wear my cologne so you always smell like me.” He sniffed again, dragging his nose up Style’s neck to his jaw. He felt more than saw the way Style tilted his head. He kissed the sharp jawline, closing his eyes.
They stayed like that for a few more minutes, Style whispering words of praise and Fadel still holding him in his arms. When Style shifted, trying to get up, Fadel wouldn’t let him.
“Baby,” Style said, running his hands through Fadel’s hair, “we have to move. Aftercare is important, yes?”
“I just want to hold you.”
“You can hold me in the bathtub.” He managed to extract Fadel’s head from his neck, hands on either side of his face. “Besides, my knees are hurting, and I want to make sure your wrists are okay. Can you let me go for now?”
Fadel’s lips curved down into a pout, one that was kissed away. “Fine.” He reluctantly unraveled his arms from Style’s waist, not happy about it in the slightest, though he was usually the one insisting on managing aftercare.
However, Style said many times that he was going to be the one taking care of Fadel. He managed to get up off Fadel’s lap (with the help of Fadel’s hands on his waist to keep him steady) and stand on shaky legs. He grabbed Fadel’s hand, watching as he scooted toward the edge of the bed. An arm raised, but Style stepped back out of its reach.
“Puppy,” he said. “Bathtub.”
Fadel huffed, standing as well and stealing a kiss, squeezing Style’s hand in his. He was led to their bathroom, where lavender candles surrounded the large tub and his favorite bath bomb sat on the counter.
Style lit the candles, not letting go of Fadel. He dropped the bath bomb in and turned to his boyfriend. “How are you feeling?” He did a once-over, checking Fadel’s wrists and noting there was only a slight redness.
“Still a little floaty,” Fadel admitted, “but good. Very good.”
“Good,” Style said with a smile. He cleaned the dried come from their stomachs with a wet washcloth. Then he got in the tub first, leaning back against the side and gesturing for Fadel to follow. “Come here. I’m still the one taking care of you tonight.”
Still pliant and very willing, Fadel did just that. His broader form rested on Style’s chest, relaxing fully against him. Arms wrapped around his waist. He laid his hands on top of Style’s, rubbing circles into the back of them. His eyes slowly closed, his breathing evening out.
“...I ended up coming first after all,” he mumbled.
Style’s body shook with laughter. He hid his face in Fadel’s shoulder. “We came together.”
“I still came first.”
“You come first in my heart.”
Fadel twisted around and found Style’s lips with his own. There was no heat or hunger, only devotion and love. Their mouths moved seamlessly, like a dance they’d practiced thousands of times. Neither wanted to be the first to pull away, but they had to breathe.
“I love you,” Fadel said against Style’s lips. “Thank you for taking care of me, Style.”
“I love you, too, Fadel. Thank you for trusting me enough to let me do all of this.” Style kissed his forehead, letting it linger. “My scary hitman, whining and begging to be allowed to touch me.”
Fadel playfully glared up at him. “I did not whine.”
“You did. You whimpered, too.’
“I did not.”
“I had to stop myself from coming on the spot.’
Fadel paused. “Really?”
“Really.” Style moved back and grabbed the shampoo. “I better not have to wait long to hear it again.”
“I’ll make sure that you won’t, since you really want it.”
As he lathered shampoo in Fadel’s hair, Style pressed a kiss to his cheek. “My puppy,” he said softly.
“Only yours,” Fadel said, tone serious enough to make the simple words a vow.