BL ONESHOTS NO.5

²⁰²⁰🥵Fadel x Style

Fadel and Style sat in their usual spot, the worn-out couch that had seen better days, surrounded by a mess of takeout containers and forgotten laundry. They had been bickering for what felt like hours over the most trivial of things: the TV remote, the dirty dishes, the way Style always left his shoes in the middle of the floor.

"You're like a tornado," Fadel said, tossing a pillow at Style's head. "A whirlwind of chaos and mess."

Style caught the pillow with a smirk, throwing it back. "And you're like a... a... a neat freak ninja," he teased, trying to come up with a witty retort.

Their laughter filled the small apartment, bouncing off the walls and mixing with the distant sounds of the city outside. Despite the mess, there was a comfort to their squabbles, a familiar rhythm that had become part of the fabric of their lives together. They had been dating for almost a year, and every fight felt like a dance they had choreographed, leading them back to the same warm embrace.

"You know, one of these days, we're going to have to clean this place up," Style said, looking around with a hint of exasperation.

Fadel leaned back into the couch, arms folded. "Yeah, sure. But why should we? We're adults. We can live how we want."

The banter continued, each of them poking fun at the other's habits. Style was the creative one, the artist whose mind was always in a whirl of color and ideas, leaving trails of disorganization in his wake. Fadel, on the other hand, was the organized one, the planner who liked everything to be in its place. Yet, amidst the chaos, they found a strange harmony.

"Fine, I'll start," Style said, standing up and walking towards the kitchen. "But only if you promise to help after you're done playing video games."

Fadel rolled his eyes but grinned, not bothering to hide his affection. "Deal," he called out, his thumbs dancing over the game controller.

Style began to clear the dishes, stacking them in the sink. The warm water ran as he added soap, bubbles frothing up and cascading over his hands. The scent of leftover spaghetti filled the air, a reminder of their dinner from two nights ago. As he worked, he couldn't help but feel the weight of their argument lifting. They had been together long enough to know that their fights never lasted, that the love they had for each other was stronger than any mess or forgotten chore.

The clanking of plates and the hum of the TV grew softer as Style became lost in his thoughts. He felt a gentle hand on his waist, and Fadel's breath against his neck. "You know I'll help," Fadel murmured, his voice a sweet caress in the steamy kitchen.

Style leaned back into him, feeling Fadel's warmth and the steady beat of his heart. "I know," he said with a sigh. "But sometimes it's just easier to start without you."

Their bodies fit together perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle that had found their place. Fadel wrapped his arms around Style, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing the tender spot below Style's ear. "I'll be better."

Style turned in Fadel's embrace, smiling. "You always are," he said, and their lips met in a kiss that held the promise of reconciliation and more. The tension of the fight melted away as they held each other, their love a warmth that transcended the mess and clutter of their apartment.

Their kiss grew deeper, hungrier, and Style could feel the heat building between them. They broke apart, breathless, and Fadel took the dish towel from Style's hand. "Let's get this done," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then we can get to the good part."

They worked together in companionable silence, the chore of cleaning up forgotten in the sweetness of their connection. Their hands touched frequently, sending little electric jolts through their bodies, hinting at what was to come. The kitchen began to look cleaner, but their desire for each other grew messier, more intense.

Once the last dish was put away, Fadel grabbed Style's hand and led him to their bedroom, leaving the living room in the same state of disarray they had found it. They tumbled onto the bed, their clothes shed in a hurry, and their bodies tangled together in a passionate knot.

Their love was like a storm that had passed, leaving in its wake a calm, gentle warmth. They kissed and touched, exploring each other as if for the first time, despite the countless moments they had shared. The world outside their door could wait. For now, all that mattered was the here and now, the love that filled their tiny apartment and the hearts that beat in sync.

Fadel's hand traced the lines of Style's chest, feeling the rapid pulse that matched his own. He leaned in closer, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, making him shiver. Style's hands found their way to Fadel's hips, pulling him in, and their bodies melded together as one. The friction of their skin was electric, a current that surged through their veins, igniting a fire that could only be satiated with each other.

They moved in a dance as old as time, each knowing the other's rhythm, each other's desires. The mattress groaned beneath them, a testament to their passion. Their breaths grew ragged, and the room filled with the sweet sound of their love, echoing the city's pulse beyond the walls.

As they reached their peak, Style's eyes locked with Fadel's, a silent promise passed between them. They had fought, they had laughed, they had loved, and now, they were one. Their bodies trembled in the aftermath, hearts racing like they had just run a marathon. They lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the mess of the apartment forgotten, their love stronger than ever.

Their bodies cooled, and the city outside grew quiet, but the warmth of their embrace lingered. They lay there for a while, basking in the glow of their love, their breaths slowly returning to normal. It was in these moments, amidst the chaos, that they found their peace. They were Fadel and Style, two opposites that had found their balance, their hearts forever entwined in a dance of love and acceptance.

And as they drifted off to sleep, the apartment still a mess, the TV still playing, and the shoes still scattered, they knew that tomorrow would bring more laughter, more love, and maybe, just maybe, a cleaner living room. But for now, all they needed was each other.

[No.121. Bye now.]