Islam reminds Khabib that he has nothing to be jealous about.
Khabib had never found any reason to be jealous. Not one at all. He found jealousy to be an immature trait, one only those possessive and insecure enough to have. But he found himself gritting his teeth at the sight of Islam conversing with anyone other than himself, anyone he doesn't know or isn't from their team.
He tried to brush it off at first. Perhaps it was just stress, maybe he was overthinking about it, even, but as days passed and this feeling of possessiveness plus the urge to snatch Islam away from prying eyes to just keep to himself got stronger and worse, he was forced to admit to himself that he was infact—jealous.
It took time for Khabib to come to terms with it. Jealousy was a trait Khabib despised most but here he was, the very definition of it emanating off of him in strong waves each time he saw Islam laugh a little too much around someone, whenever he saw someone touch him and their hand lingered for too long, whenever someone stared at him for too long.. it felt like the tiniest things were triggering him so easily.
Khabib jolted when he heard that familiar voice reach his ears, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned his head, locking eyes with the very apple of his eye. Islam raised an eyebrow at Khabib's reaction, his lips twitching into a soft, amused smile, "you okay? You, err.. didn't hear me."
Khabib could feel his cheeks flush slightly at being caught off guard so easily. He cleared his throat and nodded his head.
"I'm okay," he muttered, standing up from the bench and grabbing his gym bag, "we go home?"
Islam nodded, "we go home."
The ride was eerily silent. Islam was either busy staring outside or on his phone. Khabib's heart rate picked up slightly. Had he done something wrong for Islam to be so quiet? He had dealt with silent treatment before, albeit from his younger sister while they were kids, but this felt entirely different.
"..Islam—" he eventually spoke, but couldn't get the first few words of his sentence out before he felt a hand on his thigh. His hand around the steering wheel tensed as he sucked in a breath through his lips.
"I notice how you look when I talk to people," Islam soon murmured, tucking his phone into his pocket before his head turned to look at Khabib, "you jealous, Khabibi?"
Khabib could hear it. The teasing tone in Islam's voice that both made his blood boil and his cheeks warm up with embarrassment.
"Jealous?" He huffed out, "why would I be jealous?"
"They say you look like you want to tear them apart, like bear," said Islam, a soft smirk forming on his lips as his hand traveled to Khabib's inner thigh, squeezing lightly and digging his nails through the thin fabric of his gym shorts.
"..They lie," Khabib shuddered out, his thigh instinctively tensing at the touch, "I do not get jealous. You know this."
"Do I know that? I don't think so," Islam's hand ran up Khabib's inner thigh, dragging the pant sleeve of his shorts along with it until it almost reached his groin—where Khabib wanted his hand the most.
Islam kept his hand there for a few moments before dragging it back down, causing a soft, stifled sound of frustration to come up from the back of Khabib's throat. He kept his gaze on him the entire time, catching every tiny response he gave, "why you jealous, huh? You scared I leave you for random person?"
"Not scared," Khabib protested weakly, but he knew Islam had read him like an open book. Even as his lips parted and closed like a fish out of water trying to come up with something, he had no idea how he was going to excuse this.
His breath suddenly hitched when he felt Islam slowly grab his groin through the fabric of his shorts, "then why?" Islam pushed, shifting in the passenger seat to face Khabib as he started to stroke him as best as he could.
His hands tightened further around the steering wheel, his breathing uneven and heavy. He didn't know why and he certainly didn't know how to explain to Islam that. One of his hands left the steering wheel to tug his shorts down just enough to expose himself.
Islam smirked and wrapped his hand around Khabib's half-hard length, stroking it slowly as he eagerly watched his expression. His smirk grew as he watched Khabib desperately try to stifle the small noises that escape his lips despite his effort.
After a few meager strokes, Islam leaned his body forward, his face and lips now mere inches from Khabib's length. He placed a few gentle open-mouthed kisses on the tip, wringing out a soft yet strangled groan from Khabib, before taking the head into his mouth.
"Islam-" Khabib choked out, his hand instinctively coming down to the back of Islam's head as he felt the man's warm and slick mouth slowly envelop his cock. His thighs tensed and his hips twitched, eyes quickly glancing down at Islam before focusing back on the road.
His lips fell open and a guttural groan left him when he felt Islam start to suck, the sensation having multiplied about tenfold. Khabib could feel Islam's tongue painfully slowly drag itself along the underside of his cock as he removed his mouth and it almost made Khabib want to whine.
Islam licked his lips, cherishing the taste of Khabib on his tongue as he leaned back, his hand wrapping around Khabib's cock once more, pumping him hastily.
He kept Khabib on edge for the rest of the drive. He'd stop, then continue, then his pace would slow then it'd speed up suddenly. It made Khabib so desperate he considered stopping the car by the side of the road just so Islam can have his way with him.
Khabib was practically shaking, his hips stuttering whenever he got close, a frustrated and devastated whimper escaping his lips whenever Islam stopped and his brain barely being able to focus on the road.
When he pulled up into the driveway of their house, he gazed expectantly and needily at Islam, wanting him to continue where they left off now that they're atleast home.
Instead, Islam gave him a malicious smirk and pulls away, "still jealous?"
Khabib shook his head, "no, no.."
"Good.. because you belong to me and I belong to you."
..is what Islam said before getting out of the car and immediately going into their house, leaving Khabib pent up, needy and for Khabib to chase him into the house.
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