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Style gripped tightly the glass between his fingers. He was starting to lose count of how many times he had it refilled tonight. Nothing seemed to be going according to the plan and everything he could do to endure the rest of that torturous night was drink.

“I suggest you slow down,” Fadel's voice took him out of his thoughts but when Style turned to him, he found the other man not even looking in his direction. Fadel was leaning into his chair by the bar, twirling around the liquid in his own glass. His eyes were wandering over the dancing crowd in the distance and nonchalance was written all over his face.

Style has had enough of it. When he managed to make the other agree to come to the club with him earlier, he considered that a victory. When they ended up here though, he couldn't pinpoint how many times Fadel turned down his invitations to dance, pulled away when he tried to initiate some skin contact or ignored his attempts at flirting. It was like the man had that huge built up wall in front of him and no one could ever break through it.

With a loud thud, Style put his glass down. That finally had Fadel look towards him but he held his eyes only for a moment before looking away.

Style didn't get it. He considered himself rather attractive and judging by the way Fadel stole glances at him when he thought he wasn't looking, there was at least little interest by the other. Then why did the man block all his advances? Style tried everything, damn it. He's been pursuing the other for weeks now. What was supposed to be a simple mission, one meant to help his best friend out with taking out Fadel's brother without Fadel himself intervening, was now seeming like the most impossible task.

“Do you ever have fun?” Style questioned, the frustration evident in his eyes. The fact Fadel continued not looking at him was making him feel invisible.

“If your perception of fun is being stuck with odd and sweaty people at some place which serves the sole purpose of getting blackout drunk then no, I don't ever have fun.” Fadel's answer did little to please Style. If anything, the other boy felt like he might burst with agitation. Was the other man's perception of clubs really so negative or was he not pleased with the fact Style was the one accompanying him?

Style was feeling lost. He didn't know what to do in order to get Fadel to look at him, to actually see him. He's made his interest in the man clear since day one. He's been trying his best to get the other wrapped right around his finger and so far, he was failing pathetically. What else was he even supposed to d-

Suddenly, a recent memory washed over Style. He remembered how one night he was complaining to Kant about how useless all his attempts in seducing Fadel were. He had rambled about how their plan was never going to succeed if Fadel didn't get to see him as something more than the annoying guy who chases after him.

“If he wasn't at least slightly interested in you, he wouldn't have let you continue trying to get into his pants,” Kant trailed off. “Maybe the problem is that he's started taking your interest and attention for granted. Fadel is quite the.. possessive type. And if he already considers you his, without even realizing it, there could be something that would get him to finally snap.” Kant's lips curled into a playful smirk while Style remained oblivious to whatever his friend was getting at. “Get him jealous, Style. Show him that he's not the only option you have. Maybe we've been doing it wrong the entire time. Maybe he will get his head out of his ass only when you stop chasing after him.”

The problem with Kant's idea was that it could backfire horribly. What if Fadel felt relief instead of jealousy when he saw him with another guy? What if that put an end to whatever there could have been between them? Style wasn't convinced that this was the best strategy but at the same time, what else he had left? It was that or nothing.

He was going to take the risk.

“Where are you going?” Fadel asked after Style got up on his feet.

“To dance. You know, something people usually go to clubs for,” Style huffed, making Fadel shake his head as he then watched him wander off towards the crowd.

When Style began to dance, he struggled with keeping his balance initially. Although he didn't consider himself drunk, he was certainly tipsy and it was showing through his slowed movements. As the songs began to roll one by one though, Style was begining to forget about his annoyance towards Fadel. The more he was starting to relax under the club lights, the more his frustration was being pushed to the back of his mind.

It didn't take too long before he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. When he looked up, he found a slightly taller guy flashing him a flirtatious smile. Usually Style was more picky with the men he let that close, but right now he wasn't looking for a hookup. No, he wanted someone to rile Fadel up with and that guy would do the job.

As Style slid his hands up the stranger's chest and moved a little closer as they danced, he could feel a pair of eyes burning through him, and he didn't need to look to know who they belonged to.

So now you're actually looking my way?

Fadel was watching from the distance, his tongue poking at his cheek. When Style said he wanted to dance, he didn't mention there would be more grinding against some guy rather than dancing. If it wasn't clear that Style was drunk, Fadel wouldn't even bat an eye. Why would he? Style was a damn grown up and he could do whatever he wished.

Thing was though, Style was anything but sober right now. And the man whose hands were now sliding up his shirt couldn't care less. Even from afar Fadel could notice the lust in that guy's eyes, the way he was looking at Style like he might devour him any second now. The sight was oddly uncomfortable to look at.

Not even Fadel allowed himself to look at Style with such lustful intentions in his eyes - even if Style has always shown him his want for him. Then why, the fuck, did a mere stranger think he had the right to look at him that way?

Fadel took a big sip of his whiskey, letting the substance burn down his throat. A small cuss left his lips as he noticed Style shorten the distance between him and the other guy. Their bodies were like glued together now and the stranger seemed to take that as an invitation to slide his hands down this time - right towards his ass.

Fadel felt rage wash over him at the sight. What was Style seriously thinking? Why would he take him to that stupid club if his intention was to jump into someone else's bed? Fadel couldn't understand just what made the boy who was usually all over him now seek the attention of another but he didn't like it. Not one bit.

The more he watched the two guys dance, the more he craved to rip that man's arms off. Those hands, those fingers, they didn't deserve to touch his Style. Not with those dirty intentions anyway.

Under normal circumstances, Fadel would remind himself that Style wasn't his to begin with. Hell, under normal circumstances he wouldn't refer to him that way in the first place. He would acknowledge the fact that he was the one who kept pushing him away, who kept telling him to leave him alone. Why did the guy he usually consider as nothing more than pain in the ass was now causing him to experience those ugly feelings?

Fadel slammed his glass down as he watched the stranger bury his face against Style's neck, his lips pressing into the soft skin. All rational thoughts, all curious questions about why he was getting so affected, all caution was thrown out the window. Before he even knew it, Fadel was on his feet, pushing through people so he could get to Style. Anger was consuming his entire being and he couldn't even attempt to control it.

“That's enough,” Fadel took Style by his arm and tugged him away from the man who had his mouth all over him. Style seemed slightly surprised, stumbling back a little. He winced at the tight grip Fadel had on him and the man loosened it in realization but refused to let go of him entirely.

“Man, what's your problem?” The guy across from him hissed, taking a threatening step towards them.

“I don't have any,” Fadel pushed Style behind him, taking a step towards the other man too. “I suggest you walk off before you have one though,” Fadel pushed his jacket back a little, revealing the gun tucked into his waistband. It took the other man one glance down at it for the facade of a brave man, ready to stir trouble, to fade. He gulped hard, taking a few steps backwards before he turned around and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Coward, Fadel thought. No man who could be intimidated so easily deserved to be near Style.

Turning around, Fadel was faced with those big and glimmering eyes that often knocked him off his feet. His lips parted, forgetting what he was meant to say. Style was looking at him as if he resembled his entire world. The trust, the hope, the vulnerability in those eyes.. it made Fadel wish to burn that entire place down. To ensure no one ever gets close enough to Style again and hurt him.

“We're leaving,” Fadel spoke, sliding his hand down to Style's. Intertwining their fingers together, they started walking towards the exit. Fadel's patience has obviously run thin, if the way he was shoving people out their way was anything to judge by.

When they made their way out through the back exit, the door slammed shut behind them. They were in a quiet and dark street, one that was illuminated only by the moonlight above them and the lights that were peeking from under the door.

“Why are you smiling?” Fadel asked, turning to look at Style who was now leaning against the brick wall with a stupid grin on his face.

“You finally noticed me,” Style shrugged, a quiet laugh falling from his lips. Fadel's eyebrows furrowed.

Finally noticed him?

Fadel took a step, then two, then a few more until he was caging Style against the wall. He raised his hands, pressing them on the both sides of the other's head. He inspected his features closely, noticing the way his laughter died out as he seemed to suddenly realize how close they were.

“You think I don't notice you?” Fadel asked, his voice dropping a little. If that was a question he asked just half an hour ago, Style would have shouted yes, yes of course you don't, you bastard! He would have gone on about how he never looked at him, never acknowledged him. Style would have so much to say, damn it.

And yet now, with Fadel so close that he could feel his warm breath over his skin, with his eyes wandering down to his lips every now and then, with how he was everything Style could see and feel, it was hard to muster up even a single response.

“Do you?” Style asked quietly, his hands daring to press against Fadel's chest. The contact made the other's eyes squeeze shut for a brief moment.

“You have no idea..” Fadel's voice was barely above a whisper. When his eyes opened, he was gazing into Style's in a way he never let himself before. There was need in them. So much need that it almost felt too overwhelming. Ache for something. Ache for him.

“Then why.. why do you keep pushing me away?” Style breathed out, his fingers clenching the fabric of the other's shirt beneath them.

“You think I am naive, Style? You think I am stupid?” Fadel leaned in, his lips brushing against his ear. Style had to gulp hard, shaking his head no before the other man's hand reached out to hold his cheek against his palm. His thumb gently brushed against the skin. “I know your intentions aren't as pure as you make them out to be. I know you have some hidden agenda..” Fadel trailed off, his lips pressing below his ear. Style was starting to feel weak at the knees. “I don't trust you the slightest,” He whispered against his skin before he dragged his lips down his neck. The kisses he was leaving were slow and sensual, barely there yet it felt like they were being engraved into his skin.

“I-I-” Style tried to defend himself but Fadel pressed his finger against his lips, making the other's breathing hitch.

“Shh.. don't tell me any more lies than you've already told me,” Fadel whispered, pressing down on Style's bottom lip. The latter let out a soft gasp, one that Fadel wanted to drink up instantly. “I'll find out what you hide from me, Style.” He inched in and now the only thing keeping their lips apart was the man's thumb between them. He rubbed down on his lip softly, his eyes searching Style's for one last time.

Whatever Fadel saw in them, it made his resolve crumble. He pressed their lips together and Style was finally pushed into that bliss he could only dream of until now. Fadel's lips were soft, oh so soft, but they were kissing so roughly. They forced his own open so the man could deepen the kiss without wasting any more time.

A soft sound of satisfaction escaped Style. His hands slid up higher, resting against Fadel's neck. The other pressed their bodies flush together, his own hands slipping down to Style's hips. The two were like starved men, kissing each other with all the hunger they've managed to contain until now. It was messy, it was sloppy in a way, it was more teeth than anything at times, it was their desperate attempt at taking everything they could from each other.

When Style sucked on Fadel's tongue, the other released a quiet groan into their kiss. His hands gripped his hips a little more tightly before they began to wander up and under his shirt. The memory of another man having his hands there just some mere minutes ago had Fadel nearly spiral out of control. The kisses that guy pressed up Style's neck, how he held him, how he dared to touch him.. it was all too much.

Breaking their kiss, Fadel slid a hand up Style's neck, developing a firm grip there, making him choke out a gasp as they already were struggling to catch their breath due to the heated kiss. “You won't let anyone else touch you like that again, Style.” It wasn't a request. It couldn't be any more clear of a demand and it caused shivers to run down Style's frame.

“Or?” Style breathed out, his eyes fluttering close when Fadel squeezed his neck a little tighter.

“Or..” Fadel pushed himself against Style some more and the intentional press of his gun against him had Style gulp hard. “Bad things might happen to those you decide to use to test me with,” Fadel answered, a smile blossoming across his face.

Style didn't know who was more sick - Fadel for implying that he would spill blood over him, or Style finding that oddly.. enticing.

Fadel must have seen something in his eyes then, something that caused a low chuckle to escape his lips as he loosened his grip on his neck. “You're unbelievable,” He muttered before crashing their lips together again.

Style wasn't afraid of Fadel. He also never judged what he did, how he did it or who he did it to. He was matching his fire, igniting it at times but cooling it down when needed. He didn't care about his reputation, about his sins or about the blood over his hands. Style was too perfect for his own good and that's how Fadel knew he couldn't be real. He couldn't be so lucky to get someone like Style and so, he knew that there was something ugly peeking beneath the surface. One would think that if he was so sure, he would stay as far away from that boy as possible. He had tried, he really had.

But when tonight he saw another man get a taste of what was forbidden for him, something within him snapped. Fadel was jumping right into the lion's den.

“Ah” Style gasped when Fadel suddenly held his wrists, pinning them above his head. His mouth moved down to his chin, then over his jaw, trailing kisses down his neck. This time, he was sucking and biting, creating possessive love bites all over the skin that was fast flushing under his lips. His other hand sneaked under Style's shirt again but this time, it had a purpose.

His cold fingers traveled up the other's warm skin. Once they found his nipples, reminded of what the man had once flirtatiously told him about how sensitive they were, Fadel decided to test that theory. He brushed his fingers against one nipple, making Style gasp, eyes slightly widening. Fadel looked up at him from where his face was nuzzled into his neck, revealing a small smile against the warm and wet from kisses skin.

“Fadel-” Style moaned as Fadel pinched his nipple. Before he could even recover from his surprise, the man began to twist and rub the hardening bud between his fingers. Style's back arched from the wall, seeking the taunting touch.

Fadel pressed his hips against Style's, his smirk only growing when he felt the arousal in the other's pants. He pushed against him, making the boy's back hit the wall behind once more. His lips found Style's again while his fingers continued to switch between his nipples, pressing, tugging, pinching and playing with them. His hips began to slowly grind down against Fadel, giving them both the kind of friction that had them gasping and cussing into their kiss.

“Fadel, Fadel, I want-” Style sighed in contentment against Fadel's lips once the other let go of his wrists. He was aching to touch him. One hand buried into the man's hair while the other rested against his chest.

“Whatever you want..” Fadel bit on his bottom lip gently, tugging it between his teeth before releasing. “You'll get it only after you lay all your cards on the table.” Fadel whispered near his lips before he stepped back, retreating his hands to himself, leaving Style panting, with his chest heaving up and down, looking needy and confused from the abrupt loss of his warmth. “I don't fuck people I don't trust, Style.” Fadel took another step back, amusement dancing in his eyes at the sight across him.

Style already looked absolutely fucked out with his swollen lips, flushed face, disheveled clothes and the freshly left marks over his neck.

“If you want more, you'll give me each and every of your dirty little secrets.” Fadel declared, making Style's heart skip a beat. The way the other man was looking at him felt like he could see right through every lie he's made up so far. There was unmistaken desire in Fadel's eyes, but there was also determination in them, one that let Style know there was no point in trying to make him change his mind.

And that's when he realized it. Whatever happened in that dark street was Fadel's way of getting his point across. Style thought he was the one getting him to fall into his trap but in the end, it was him who was trapped. Outplayed in his own game.

“You're an asshole,” Style breathed out, pushing himself off the wall. He was flustered, obviously aroused, and so, so annoyed that he nearly begged Fadel to fuck him just some mere seconds ago.

He threw Fadel a small glare before he walked past him. Fadel could only smile to himself as he started walking after him, his gun neatly secured and ready to be used if anyone even looked at the pissed off boy across from him in a wrong way.

Whatever game they were playing at, there might be two losing sides in the end.