Goa Nights: Shubham & Samay Ch. 03

⚠️ Author's Note:

They cross the line, fully.

Samay rides. Shubham ruins. And neither of them can pretend anymore.

This is not just about release. It's about who they're becoming.

________________________________________

That night, the silence between them was thick with what hadn't been said.

They hadn't kissed.

They hadn't fucked.

They hadn't talked about what it meant to lick your best friend's hole in broad daylight like you owned it.

But the tension in the air?

That was loud.

They lay in separate beds. Samay in one room, Shubham in the other.

It was past 1AM. The Airbnb was quiet. The only sound was the ceiling fan above, chopping at the air like a slow heartbeat.

Samay lay shirtless, on his back, staring at the ceiling. His cock was hard. Aching. He hadn't even touched it yet -- just remembering Shubham's tongue inside him, the slaps on his ass, the weight of being used. His briefs were soaked. His thighs twitched.

His fingers drifted down. Not just to his cock, but lower. Slower.

They stopped at the edge of his hole.

No.

No fucking way.

But his body didn't care what his brain said. Not anymore.

He pressed a fingertip against it. Just testing.

It twitched.

He moaned.

His face flushed hot.

What was happening to him?

He'd never done this with girls. He'd always been the one in control. He fucked. He got blowjobs. He left the marks.

But now?

He was the one moaning. Gagging. Spreading.

Letting it happen.

And the worst part?

He wanted it to happen again.

What the fuck has Shubham done to me?

That quiet, calm bastard. Not even aggressive. Not violent. Just... sure. Focused. Strong.

He hadn't forced anything. But the moment he touched Samay's ass, it was over.

He'd eaten him like a slut. Spanked him like he owned him.

And now, Samay was lying in bed wanting more. Wanting to be broken open. To be used.

To be ruined.

His cock throbbed.

The memory of Shubham's cock in his mouth made him shiver. Thick. Heavy. Too big for him. But he'd taken it. Gagged on it. Moaned for it.

Now he wanted to go deeper.

He wanted to earn that cock.

To be trained.

And maybe--fuck--maybe even be fucked.

The thought made his breath hitch.

Could I even take him? That thing? That thick cock?

What if it tears me in half?

What if I beg for more?

Samay shoved his face into the pillow and groaned.

He was losing his mind.

________________________________________

Neither of them got much sleep. The villa stayed silent, thick with denial and arousal. In the morning, Shubham woke up hard.

It wasn't like the usual morning wood -- lazy, half-forgotten.

This was urgent. Full. Angry. His cock was throbbing under the sheet like it needed to be inside something right now.

He remembered the feel of Samay's ass in his hands. The smoothness. The way it opened for him. The way Samay whimpered when he spat on it, when he licked it, when he slapped it red.

And that mouth...

That fucking mouth.

Shubham clenched his fist around his cock through the sheet and exhaled.

What the hell was he doing?

He'd never fucked anyone. Barely done anything. A couple handjobs from nervous girls back in second year. Some kisses, nothing serious. Never even felt this turned on.

But with Samay?

It was different.

It wasn't about gender. It wasn't even about attraction the way he used to think about it. He didn't find other guys hot. Not once had he checked out a dude in college. He liked girls. Still did.

But Samay?

He was different.

Stronger than anyone Shubham had been with. Tougher. Sharper. And still, he melted beneath him. Took it. Craved it. Begged for it.

That was the drug.

Not the hole.

Not the body.

But the power.

The ability to make someone like Samay -- cocky, confident, alpha-as-fuck Samay -- choke on him, open for him, squirm under his tongue.

And Shubham wanted more.

More noise. More submission. More control.

He didn't just want to fuck Samay. He wanted to ruin him.

Take him to the edge.

Keep him there.

See what would break first -- his hole or his pride.

And that scared him.

Because he liked Samay.

He wasn't some random hookup. He was his best friend. His person.

But if Shubham let himself think too hard about that, he'd never touch him again.

So he didn't.

He stepped into Samay's room.

Shorts tented. Breathing heavy.

Samay stirred under the blanket.

"Shubh?"

Shubham didn't answer.

He just grabbed the blanket and yanked it down.

Samay's briefs were soaked. His cock stood straight up, leaking at the tip.

His lips parted when he saw Shubham's face.

"Shubh--"

But Shubham was already on him.

He climbed onto the bed, straddled Samay's chest, and pulled his cock out.

"Open your mouth."

Samay opened. No hesitation.

Shubham shoved it in.

No warning. No teasing. Just took the moment and claimed it.

Samay gagged immediately. His throat wasn't ready. His eyes went wide, watering.

But he didn't stop him.

His hands gripped Shubham's thighs.

His mouth took it.

"Good boy," Shubham growled.

"That's it. Get used to it."

Samay moaned around him, spit bubbling out from the corners. His throat spasmed.

Shubham pulled back, let him breathe, then shoved in again.

Faster. Deeper. Meaner.

He grunted as he watched Samay choke.

Watched his lashes flutter. Watched tears spill down his face.

But Samay kept trying.

His lips sealed tighter. His tongue worked harder. He was learning.

"You're getting better," Shubham murmured, voice ragged.

"But you're still not ready to take all of it, are you?"

Samay shook his head, cock pressed against his belly, drool running down his chin.

"Good. We'll train that throat later."

He pulled out -- with a wet pop -- and grabbed Samay's face in one hand.

"Now kiss me."

Samay gasped for air.

Then Shubham slammed their mouths together.

It wasn't sweet.

It wasn't romantic.

It was raw.

Messy.

Tongue and spit and teeth.

Shubham bit his bottom lip. Sucked his tongue. Held his jaw like it belonged to him.

Samay moaned into it, hips rolling up against Shubham's weight.

Shubham kissed him harder -- shoved him into the mattress, ground their bodies together.

Their hips pressed tight.

Samay gasped when he felt it -- the full weight of Shubham's cock pressing down against his own.

It wasn't just hard. It was heavy. Thicker. Longer.

It made Samay feel... smaller. More open. Like his cock didn't even belong in the same league.

The kiss turned savage. Tongues fighting. Breath panting.

Shubham bit his bottom lip again. Sucked it. Then bit it harder.

Samay whimpered. And moaned. And pushed back up into it like a goddamn slut.

Then Shubham broke the kiss and started trailing his mouth lower.

He kissed along Samay's jaw. His throat. Bit down on his collarbone and sucked.

A fresh hickey bloomed.

Samay's hands clutched the sheets. His cock jumped between them.

Then Shubham kept moving -- down his chest, his stomach -- leaving a trail of wet bites and kisses.

When he got to Samay's thighs, he pulled them apart.

Wide.

He stared at the skin for a second, then leaned in and bit deep into the soft inside of Samay's right thigh.

Samay cried out. "F-fuck--"

The pain was sharp, stinging.

But the heat that followed made his asshole twitch.

And he knew Shubham noticed.

Because Shubham looked up, eyes dark and gleaming, then ran his thumb between Samay's cheeks and dragged it across the cleft.

Samay couldn't breathe.

Shubham didn't ask. He just turned him over.

Hands firm. Movements sure.

And suddenly -- Samay was bent over the mattress again.

Second time.

Same position.

Same boy.

He felt the air hit his hole -- bare, exposed, needy.

And in that moment, something inside him cracked.

This wasn't random.

Once could be forgotten. Brushed off. Blamed on Goa.

But twice?

Twice was a choice.

A pattern.

Something real.

He pressed his forehead into the sheets and whispered, "Fuck me."

He didn't even realize he'd said it.

Shubham didn't answer.

He just bent down and spread Samay's cheeks.

And stared.

The hole was already twitching. Soft pink. Slightly open. Like it was remembering what it had been given yesterday and begging for more.

Shubham leaned in and sucked hard -- right on the curve of Samay's left ass cheek.

Samay yelped. "Ow--fuck--"

Shubham didn't stop until a deep, purple hickey bloomed beneath his lips.

A mark.

One Samay would feel for days. Every time he sat down. Every time he walked.

I'm his now, he thought.

He hated how much he loved it.

Then Shubham spat.

The glob landed dead center.

Thick. Messy.

He spat again. Louder.

Then licked.

Not neat this time.

Not delicate.

It was sloppy. Hungry. Desperate.

He spit into Samay's crack and slurped it right back up.

His tongue lapped across the rim, pushing in, dragging out. His hands spread Samay wide, squeezing the cheeks, keeping them parted.

Samay shook.

His cock was pressed to the mattress, drooling against the sheets. His face was flushed, ears burning.

And suddenly, he realized--

This isn't just because he likes eating ass.

This is prep.

He's getting me ready.

Shubham's tongue was fucking him. Fast. Deep. Slurping like it was the only thing that mattered. Like he needed to loosen him. Stretch him. Wet him.

Because something bigger was coming.

And they both knew it.

Samay moaned.

This is it, he thought.

This is the moment.

Because all he could think about was what came next.

What it would feel like to be mounted.

To be pinned.

To have Shubham's thick cock inside him.

He wasn't ready. Not fully.

But his body was.

His hole twitched, stretched under the pressure of the tongue. His legs trembled.

And when he looked back, just for a second, over his shoulder--

He saw it.

The look in Shubham's eyes.

Not soft. Not confused. Not friendly.

Feral.

Hungry.

Like he'd been holding back all this time, and was about to snap.

Samay shuddered.

His cock throbbed.

And started to leak.

________________________________________

Shubham pulled back from Samay's hole slowly, his face glistening with spit, lips raw, cock throbbing. He'd never eaten anyone out like that. Never wanted to. Not even a girl.

But now?

He was obsessed.

This ass--Samay's ass--was everything. Tight. Smooth. Gold-brown and sinful. It opened for him like it was built for his mouth.

He hovered behind him, breath uneven, hands gripping those cheeks he'd just claimed with his tongue and spit. And he needed more.

"Can I rub it?" he rasped.

Samay didn't answer, just nodded into the mattress.

That was enough.

Shubham spat again, this time directly on the curve of Samay's ass, and lined his cock up between the cheeks. He started to move. Slowly. Deliberately. Dragging the heavy shaft up and down the crack.

The tip caught the twitching hole each time.

Samay gasped--each time it touched, his body lit up.

The first time was a shock.

The second time was temptation.

The third time?

It was almost unbearable.

Every time that swollen, leaking head brushed his rim, it was like a fuse being lit.

He'd never felt anything like it.

The heat.

The pressure.

The wrongness that felt so right.

Precum smeared across his hole, making it slippery, ready.

Shubham's cock twitched. He pushed the head against it--harder. Still didn't go in. Just threatened.

Samay shivered.

He didn't want to be the one to make the first move.

He wanted to be forced. Taken. Used.

But Shubham wasn't giving it to him that easy.

He kept rubbing. Kept teasing.

"You want it?" he asked, voice like gravel.

Samay bit his lip. Didn't answer.

Shubham leaned in closer, the weight of his cock resting perfectly between Samay's cheeks.

"I said--do you want it?"

Samay whimpered. "Yes."

"Then take it."

And just like that--Shubham held his cock still.

Didn't push. Didn't thrust.

Samay was the one who had to move.

And he did.

Tentatively, painfully slow, Samay pushed back.

His hole kissed the tip. Gave in just a little. The thick head stretched him wider than anything ever had.

He gasped. Froze.

The burn. The stretch. The way his ring twitched in protest.

Shubham groaned. "Holy fuck..."

It was tight. Hot. Alive.

Samay pushed again.

And the head popped in.

They both gasped.

Samay clutched the sheets, panting. "F-fuck, fuck--"

The pain was sharp. Deep. Like he was being split in half.

And yet--he didn't stop.

He looked back over his shoulder. Eyes glazed. Face flushed.

Shubham met his gaze and whispered:

"Go on. Take it in."

Samay's breath stuttered as the flared ridge of Shubham's cockhead settled inside him. His hole pulsed, fluttered, trying to accommodate it, trying to make sense of the invasion.

Shubham didn't move.

He just watched. Silent. Gripping the base of his cock like it was a leash he refused to tug.

He's making me do it, Samay realized.

He wants me to own it. To choose this.

But choosing didn't make it easier.

Samay exhaled, knuckles white around the bedsheet, and pushed back--slowly.

The thick shaft slid in, half an inch... then a little more.

The burn was brutal.

Pain bloomed across his spine. His hole stretched in ways it never had--barely prepared, barely ready--but wet enough from Shubham's spit and Samay's own need to allow it.

Shubham hissed, "Fuck, your ass is tight."

Samay moaned, low and hoarse.

It hurt.

But it didn't feel wrong.

It felt like his body had been waiting for this and didn't even know it.

With every inch he lowered himself, the pressure increased. The deeper he sank, the less he could breathe.

But still, he wanted it.

More.

He reached one hand behind and slid it under himself--until his fingertips touched the base of Shubham's cock. Just below that, his own stretched, twitching hole. And lower--Shubham's balls, warm against his taint.

He almost cried out.

He's fully inside me.

Samay was impaled. Filled.

His cock hung heavy and untouched beneath him, dripping onto the mattress. His body was trembling--but he was still.

Shubham groaned, looking down at the vision: Samay bent, arched, bare back glistening with sweat, ass spread open and red from spanking, with his fat cock buried to the base in that perfect, quivering hole.

This ass--Samay's ass--was made for him.

The curve. The smoothness. The golden-brown skin. The way it gripped every inch of him.

This wasn't an ass that should be wasted on anyone else.

He moved--just slightly. Pulled out an inch, slid back in.

Samay whimpered.

Then again. Out. In. Slow. Deep.

Samay gasped with every stroke. "Shubh... oh fuck..."

"I'm not even moving yet," Shubham said through clenched teeth.

"You're filling me..."

And it was true.

Every inch inside made Samay feel like he was being rewritten. Unmade.

He'd thought sucking cock had changed him.

But this?

This was worship.

He was being fucked by his best friend. First time.

First real time. And it was perfect.

Shubham leaned over, chest brushing Samay's back. His hand slid under Samay's body and wrapped gently around his throat--not choking. Just claiming.

"You're mine now," he murmured.

Samay nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Shubham kept it slow at first.

Long, deep strokes -- sliding out until only the tip remained, then sinking back in, hips flush against Samay's ass.

Each thrust was a lesson.

And Samay? He was the student.

Eager. Trembling. Learning how to breathe through the burn and embrace the stretch.

"Fucking hell," Shubham groaned, gripping Samay's hips. "Your ass doesn't let go."

Samay could barely speak.

He was on all fours, arms shaking, cock swinging between his legs, leaking onto the sheets with every grind of Shubham's hips.

Every time the cock inside him brushed that spot--the one he didn't even know existed--his hole clenched tighter.

"Is this..." he gasped, "is this what it feels like... to get fucked?"

Shubham chuckled low. "You tell me."

He adjusted Samay's position, spread his knees wider, bent him deeper--ass high, head down, fully offered.

The next thrust went deeper. Harder.

Samay moaned like a bitch.

"He's ruining me," he thought.

"This cock... it's changing my body."

Shubham grabbed both cheeks and watched the hole spread, then swallow him whole, again and again.

"This ass..." he muttered, half-lost. "It was made for me."

Samay could feel it.

The shape of his own body -- every curve, every clench -- fit around Shubham like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

He was being used.

Owned.

Trained.

And he loved it.

________________________________________

"On your back," Shubham growled suddenly.

Samay flipped over. Legs up. Hole red and twitching. Glistening.

"Keep your hands off your dick," Shubham added.

Colder this time. Like it wasn't a rule anymore--

it was law.

Shubham lined up again.

Slid in.

Samay cried out -- hands grabbing his own knees, keeping himself open. Exposed.

Shubham leaned over, kissed his throat. Bit his collarbone.

Their chests pressed. Samay wrapped his legs around Shubham's back.

The new angle made Samay see stars.

He whimpered, "You're so deep."

Samay gasped -- his body shivering under Shubham's weight, cock bobbing against his stomach, aching for release.

He reached down, desperate to stroke--

Slap.

Shubham smacked his hand away, hard.

"No."

Samay froze, breath caught in his throat. "Wh-what?"

"You don't touch yourself."

"Please, I need--"

"You'll cum from my cock or not at all."

Shubham leaned in, thrusting slowly, grinding deep inside him.

"I've seen the way you leak when I fuck you. When I rim you."

His lips brushed Samay's ear.

"I wanna see if you can cum just from getting your ass fucked. Like a girl. Like your body knows who it belongs to."

Samay's hole clenched hard.

His cock twitched, untouched, already dribbling precum.

"Fuck," he whispered, eyes wide.

Shubham smirked. "That's right. Be a good boy. Take it. Show me what that ass is made for."

Shubham was sweating. Muscles flexing with every thrust.

He didn't stop.

Thirty minutes. Forty minutes.

Two positions. One mind-breaking cock.

Samay was wrecked.

Whimpering. Open. Slurring words. And still hard.

And Shubham?

Shubham was obsessed.

With the grip. The heat. The fucking way this ass took him.

And when he finally came, he did it balls-deep, with a groan that echoed off the walls.

Samay felt every pulse of it. Every spurt. His hole stretched and painted.

And still--he hadn't been allowed to cum.

________________________________________The shower hissed softly as steam filled the room.

Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes had passed since Shubham last came inside him.

Samay lay sprawled on the bed, naked and limp, on his stomach -- one leg bent, his back faintly marked by fingernails and heat. There was a red patch on his neck. Another on his inner thigh. But it was his ass that Shubham couldn't stop looking at.

Still parted. Still flushed. Still twitching.

Still his.

Shubham sat beside him, one hand loosely wrapped around his softening cock. He wasn't even stroking it -- just... holding it. Feeling the way it pulsed when he stared too long at the boy beside him.

He's mine.

Not in the romantic sense. Not in the "we're in love" way.

Mine, like possession. Like territory. Like something taken and claimed and ruined and meant to be used again.

This body. This hole. This boy.

This is my toy now. This is my fuckhole. This is my new routine.

And the hunger wasn't fading.

It was growing.

Shubham licked his lips.

He'd never felt this way before. He'd been horny. He'd jerked off to the idea of fucking girls in balconies, against club walls, in the backseats of cars.

But nothing had ever left him like this -- aching and full and hungry even after he'd emptied one load into a friend's ass.

He hasn't cum on my cock yet.

He has to.

That would be the final step. The moment Samay stopped pretending there was a line left to cross.

________________________________________

The water was hot. It soaked into their skin, lifting the sweat, the cum, the spit -- but not the memory.

Shubham guided Samay in, arms around his waist. Samay leaned into it, eyes barely open, like he was drifting in and out.

Shubham lathered soap into his hands. His touch was careful. Slower now. Over Samay's back, his shoulders, arms, down to his hips. His skin was warm and tender. The slight curve of his waist felt too perfect to not grab.

And then... Shubham knelt.

Samay braced himself.

Shubham spread his cheeks like opening a gift, and exhaled.

The hole was still pink and swollen, glistening with what hadn't been washed away. It twitched again at the cold air. He could see where the rim had been stretched -- still open just slightly.

He leaned in.

And licked.

Soft, slow, just one pass of his tongue.

Samay tensed.

"Still sore?" Shubham asked.

Samay gave a shaky nod.

Shubham licked again. A little firmer. Then again.

And again.

Minutes passed.

He rimmed him like it was a ritual. A devotion. Tongue stroking across the ring. Circling it. Flicking into the center. Kissing every soft fold and twitching muscle. He didn't just lick -- he breathed the hole in. Worshipped it.

Samay's legs stopped trembling. His grip on the wall loosened.

The pain faded. Replaced by pressure. Then pleasure.

He moaned.

Shubham started spitting again -- thick and heavy, right onto the opening -- then licking it up in slow, wet slurps.

Samay was leaking precum again. His cock hadn't even been touched.

He let his head rest against the tile.

He could take this. He wanted this.

And then... Shubham stopped.

Stood up.

His cock was already hard again. Rock fucking solid.

He looked down at Samay's hole. Still twitching. But no longer trembling. The color was better. The skin was soft and slick.

He's ready again.

And I need him to break this time.

Shubham stepped closer, pressing against him from behind. He crowded Samay against the wall, one hand on his waist, the other braced beside his shoulder.

He didn't let him turn.

He leaned into his neck and whispered:

"You don't touch your cock again. Not for the rest of Goa."

Samay's breath hitched. "What...?"

"You don't jerk off. Don't stroke it. Don't even wrap your fingers around it unless I tell you to."

Shubham dragged his cock along Samay's ass. It slid between his cheeks, brushing the sore, spit-slick hole.

"You'll cum when I say. From what I do to you. From what I give you."

He pressed in closer.

"Every morning, I'll find this ass bare. Spread. Ready."

Samay whimpered.

"Every night," Shubham continued, "I'll leave it dripping."

Then he added, low and rough, "And when you're too sore to take me again, you'll drop to your knees and deep throat me like a good little slut."

Samay's cock jerked.

And his hole clenched.

Shubham grabbed his waist.

Lined up.

And pushed.

One long, thick, slick stroke.

No warning.

No pause.

His cock sank in to the hilt. Balls to ass.

Samay screamed.

________________________________________

Samay cried out as Shubham bottomed out inside him.

The pain was sharper this time. His hole was still sore, stretched, tender. But his body took it anyway. Welcomed it. Because he had no choice.

Shubham didn't thrust right away. He stayed buried deep -- grinding slowly, hips pressing into the swell of Samay's ass, hands firm on his waist.

"Fuck..." Samay gasped. "I-I just..."

"I know," Shubham growled into his neck. "And your hole still took me like a fucking pro."

Samay's hands braced against the tile. His legs were shaking. But not from resistance -- from need.

Then Shubham began to move.

Long strokes.

Out until the head almost slipped free -- then all the way back in.

Samay moaned loudly with every grind. The deeper Shubham went, the more it hit that spot inside -- the one that made him tremble, the one that made his untouched cock leak precum in slow dribbles.

His mouth hung open. His body bent forward. His thoughts dissolved into heat and stretch and breath.

He's going to break me again.

And I'm letting him.

Shubham leaned forward. His chest pressing against Samay's back. The water poured over them both -- hot and relentless.

"You love this," he whispered. "You love getting your ass used."

Samay whined. His cock bounced with every stroke. His hole clenched desperately around the cock stretching it.

"You think any girl could take me like this?"

He gripped Samay's throat gently from behind -- not choking, just holding.

"No. You were made for this."

Shubham fucked deeper now.

Wet slaps echoed around the bathroom as skin met skin. Samay's moans turned to helpless gasps.

Then Shubham shifted him again.

________________________________________

He yanked Samay's hips back, bending him over at the waist.

Samay's hands slammed against the wet tile to brace himself. His ass was high, his back arched, his thighs spread wide.

Shubham lined up again and drove in.

Samay nearly screamed.

It was deeper. Harder. The new angle let Shubham hit that same spot again and again, his cock sawing through Samay like it was plowing through resistance that begged to be broken.

Samay's knees buckled.

Shubham grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head back.

"Still want to cum?" he rasped.

Samay sobbed. "Y-yes--please--I can't take it--"

"You don't get to touch yourself."

Shubham leaned in. "You cum when I fuck it out of you."

Then he thrust again -- slow, brutal, cruelly deep.

Samay's body jerked forward. His cock slapped against his stomach, leaking helplessly.

He's training me, Samay thought.

Like a slut. A whore. A fuckdoll.

He wants to control how I cum. When I cum. If I cum.

He clenched tighter.

His body wanted to let go.

________________________________________

Shubham pulled him upright by the hair again.

Then grabbed his waist.

Samay was suspended now -- feet barely grounded, ass arched, arms hanging back to clutch Shubham's neck.

And Shubham fucked him.

Hard. Fast. Brutal.

Each thrust drove Samay forward and then slammed him back again.

Out to the tip. All the way back in.

"Fuck!" Samay cried. "Fuckfuckfuck--"

"You're gonna cum," Shubham growled. "And you're gonna do it on my cock."

Samay sobbed, head thrown back, body breaking.

He didn't even know if he wanted to cum.

His body had already decided.

Then it hit him.

A white-hot wave.

He exploded -- untouched.

Hands-free.

Just from the cock inside him.

His entire body clenched. His legs went numb. His mouth opened in a silent scream as thick ropes of cum shot out of him.

Shubham didn't stop.

He fucked through the orgasm. Deeper. Harder.

He leaned in close, whispering filth into his ear.

"That's right. Cum like a cock-drunk little bitch."

Samay shuddered.

"You're mine now. You leak when I say. You exist to get fucked."

Samay moaned again.

And finally -- Shubham rammed in one last time and roared.

His cock throbbed deep inside as he filled Samay's hole with another load.

Hot. Endless. Claiming.

They collapsed against the wall -- bodies twitching, skin slippery with sweat and water and sex.

Samay could barely stand.

Shubham held him up.

Both of them breathing like they'd just survived something catastrophic.

And in a way...

They had.

________________________________________

The room was silent. Still humid with steam. The only sound was their breathing--deep, uneven, stretched thin across the sweat-slick air.

Samay lay face-down on the bed, legs splayed, ass lifted slightly by the curve of a pillow beneath his hips. Shubham had barely dried him off before laying him face-down on the bed. Samay hadn't moved since. Couldn't.

His body was done.

His hole was still open. Gaping. Slowly leaking the last of Shubham's second load. His skin was flushed all over -- thighs trembling, back pink, lips swollen. There was a deep purple hickey blooming on the curve of his left ass cheek, like a stamp of ownership.

Shubham stood at the foot of the bed, towel slung low, cock half-hard again just from looking.

That ass.

Full. Smooth. Slightly muscular. Gold and pink and raw.

That fucking hole.

Twitching.

Inviting.

His fingers itched.

I need a photo of this.

He reached for his phone. The camera clicked.

Samay heard it.

He didn't flinch.

He didn't ask what Shubham was doing.

He arched his back slightly.

Pushed his ass up higher.

Offered it.

Like a slut posing for a reward.

Shubham's breath caught.

The phone clicked again.

Then again.

This time, he slipped one finger into that ruined hole.

Slick. Easy. The rim parted around him without resistance.

Samay whimpered into the pillow. Didn't pull away.

The flash captured it: Shubham's finger buried to the knuckle. Samay's ass stretched and dripping. The hickey. The pose. The pride.

Click.

Samay was still.

And Shubham?

He knew he'd never forget this image.

Not because it was filthy.

But because it was his.

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Shubham pulled his finger out slowly, watching the way Samay's hole twitched around the absence. A string of slick clung to his knuckle. The rim didn't close fully--it just fluttered, stretched and slow, like it knew it wasn't done being used.

He wiped his hand across Samay's thigh, but not before glancing at his cock again. Half-hard. Still glistening. He could've gone again.

Maybe he would.

But for now... he just stared.

Samay's back rose and fell with shallow breaths. His legs twitched every now and then, like little aftershocks were still echoing through his muscles.

His cock was soft now, but even that looked exhausted--smeared with his own cum, still faintly oozing, lying against the pillow beneath him like it had been worked harder than it was meant to.

And yet... he didn't look broken.

He looked used.

Marked.

Owned.

But not broken.

Shubham admired the hickey on his ass again. The deep one.

He almost wanted to lick it.

That's mine.

This whole fucking body. Mine.

Samay's mouth opened slightly. He murmured something--maybe a breath, maybe a sigh--but he didn't speak.

His thoughts, however, were screaming.

I came on his cock.

I fucking came. Like a bitch.

His hole still ached. His thighs were sore. His body felt... soft. Not just physically, but in that uncomfortable, vulnerable way. Like something had been stripped from him.

That was the best orgasm I've ever had.

And it makes me feel like... a woman.

He hated that thought.

He was a guy. A man. He had fucked girls. Been in control. Never once doubted his own role.

And now?

He had just begged to be fucked twice in the same night. Cummed hands-free like a plug had been pulled from inside his core.

And the worst part?

He didn't regret it.

He still wasn't thinking about labels. He didn't want to be gay. He didn't want to be "into guys."

But Shubham?

Shubham wasn't just a guy.

He was a force.

Something to be served.

Something to be submitted to.

And that made it okay.

Almost.

Samay shifted slightly. He could feel the mess between his cheeks again. It was cooling now--wetness from Shubham, spit and cum and sweat all mingled together, seeping slowly down his taint. His body was ruined, and his mind still hadn't caught up.

But deep in his gut, under the ache, under the soreness...

There was certainty.

When Shubham knocked on his door tonight.

Or tomorrow morning.

Whenever he wanted...

Samay would open it.

Step back.

Bend over.

And offer himself again.

Because no matter how confused he was...

He knew what that cock felt like.

He knew what it did to him.

And he wanted it.

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???? Let me know what you think.

I'd love to hear your reactions, questions, or what you'd want to see happen next.

Your comments fuel the story--and make it filthier.

This series is still unfolding, chapter by chapter.

More is coming.

Samay hasn't hit bottom yet.

Shubham hasn't gone as far as he could.

Tell me how far you think they'll fall.

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