He feels Style kissing up his back, his hands still massaging the meat of his ass. It feels so good having those slender hands on him.
And then Style leans up, one finger slowly dipping between his cheeks as he whispers in Fadel's ear, “What's your color, Darling?”
“Style.” He warns, but doesn't move. He doesn't want those hands to stop, he just needs a moment to think.
“Come on, Fadel. It was good the other night, right? You really seemed to like it when I took a little initiative and played with your nipples while I blew you.”
Well, yeah. It had felt amazing, but- “That’s not the same as letting you fuck me.”
“Who said I was going to fuck you?” He asks, finger carefully circling his hole. “Maybe I just want to make you feel as good as you made me feel that night, so….” He presses against his rim but doesn't push inside. “Color?”
He's never let anyone touch him like this before, but maybe, if it’s Style… On the night in question, after he came down Style's throat, he'd rolled him over and made him climax from just his fingers alone. And the look of complete ecstasy on his boyfriend's face when he'd done it…
But dammit, Fadel isn't one to give up his control, and this would be doing exactly that. It makes him uncomfortable but…the way Style always submits to him…
The thing is, he has never asked to be in charge. And really it's not that he's really asking for Fadel's submission here either. It seems like he just wants to make him feel good.
Just like the massage. He wants to service him.
So, he thinks maybe he can make a concession here.
He takes a deep breath and says, “Green.”
