The steam from the shower wrapped around them like a secret, thick and heavy. Rishav’s heart was still hammering, a wild drumbeat of panic and residual ecstasy. Ansh’s hand clamped over his mouth, stifling any sound as they listened. The faint clinking of a spoon against a cup echoed from the kitchen.
“She’s stirring her chai,” Ansh breathed directly into his ear, his voice a low, thrilling vibration. His other hand was possessively splayed across Rishav’s stomach, holding him close. “We have about thirty seconds of noise. When I move, you move. Silent. To the bedroom.”
Rishav could only nod, his body humming with the feel of Ansh’s cum still leaking out of him, a warm, thick trickle down his inner thigh. The danger was a drug, making every nerve ending scream.
Ansh cranked the shower off. The sudden silence was deafening. With a shared, frantic glance, they moved. Ansh cracked the bathroom door, peered out, and then slipped into the hallway, pulling a dripping-wet Rishav behind him. The carpet was cold and rough under his bare feet. The door to Ansh’s bedroom stood ajar, a dark invitation.
They tumbled inside, and Ansh closed the door with a soft, final click. He didn’t lock it. The risk was the entire point.
The room was shadowy, the only light a sliver from the streetlamp outside cutting across the rumpled bed. The ropes still lay there, discarded reminders of how completely he’d been possessed just minutes ago.
“On the bed,” Ansh commanded, his voice a gritty whisper. He gave Rishav a light shove toward the mattress. “On top. I want to watch you ride me. I want to see your face when you feel my cock slide back into that wet, used-up cunt.”
Rishav scrambled onto the sheets, his skin pebbling in the cool air. He straddled Ansh’s thighs as his cousin lay back, his own body a landscape of powerful muscle in the dim light. Ansh’s cock was already hard again, a thick, proud line against his stomach, glistening with a mix of shower water and his own pre-cum.
“You’re fucking insatiable,” Rishav whispered, his own need a painful, throbbing ache.
“You make me this way,” Ansh shot back, his hands grabbing Rishav’s hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh. “Now stop talking and impale yourself on my dick. Do it slow. I want to feel every fucking inch.”
Rishav reached between them, his fingers wrapping around Ansh’s hot, hard length. He guided the broad, slick head to his entrance, which was still loose and wet and aching to be filled. He positioned himself, his eyes locked on Ansh’s in the near-darkness.
He sank down.
It was an exquisite, blinding stretch. A low, guttural moan was torn from Ansh’s throat as Rishav took him in, inch by incredible inch, his body opening, accepting, needing. The feeling of being speared open, so completely full, made Rishav’s head fall back, a silent cry on his lips.
“Fuck, yes…” Ansh groaned, his hips giving an involuntary upward thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
Rishav gasped, the sensation of being filled so completely almost too much to bear. He began to move, setting a slow, torturous rhythm, rising up until just the head of Ansh’s cock remained inside him, then sinking back down, taking every last inch.
“You see that?” Ansh rasped, his gaze fixed on where their bodies joined. “You see how your fucking ass opens up for me? It’s swallowing my cock, Rishav. It’s hungry for it. Again. Faster.”
Rishav obeyed, his hands braced on Ansh’s hard chest for leverage. He bounced on his cock, his thighs burning, the slapping sound of their wet skin meeting a terrifyingly loud rhythm in the quiet room. Each downward plunge sent a jolt of pure, undiluted pleasure straight through his core. He could feel the thick vein on the underside of Ansh’s dick rubbing against that incredible spot inside him with every stroke.
“You feel so fucking good,” Rishav panted, his rhythm beginning to falter as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. “Your cock is so deep. I can feel you in my fucking stomach.”
“That’s my spot,” Ansh grunted, his own hips meeting Rishav’s downward thrusts. “That’s where I’m planting my fucking seed. You’re gonna be so full of me, Rishav. You think that little trickle in the shower was something? You have no idea. I’m gonna flood you. I’m gonna pump a load so deep into your guts it’ll never come out. I’m gonna get you pregnant right here in my fucking bed while my mom sips her tea.”
The filthy, impossible words pushed Rishav closer to the edge. His movements became more frantic, less controlled. He was chasing his release, slamming himself down on Ansh’s dick, over and over.
“I’m close, Ansh… fuck, I’m so close…”
“Not yet,” Ansh growled. In one fluid, powerful motion, he flipped them over, pinning Rishav beneath him on the mattress. The sudden shift drove his cock even deeper, making Rishav cry out. Ansh clamped a hand over his mouth again, muffling the sound.
“You have to be quiet, you fucking slut,” he whispered, his voice dangerously low. He didn’t stop moving. He fucked into him with deep, relentless strokes, each one a masterpiece of perfect, brutal friction. “She’s right there. She could walk in and see her son fucking a baby into her nephew. She’d see your legs in the air and my dick buried in your ass. Would you like that? Would you like to get caught?”
Rishav shook his head wildly against the mattress, but his body told a different story. His cock, trapped between their sweat-slicked stomachs, leaked pre-cum with every thrust. The idea was horrifying. It was also the most arousing thing he’d ever heard.
Ansh leaned down, his lips brushing Rishav’s ear. “I can feel you clenching. You’re gonna come, aren’t you? You’re gonna come from just my cock in your ass and the thought of getting caught. Do it. Come all over my stomach. Mark me the way I’ve marked you.”
The command, the sensation, the terrifying thrill—it was too much. Rishav’s orgasm ripped through him, silent and violent. His body seized, his back arching off the bed as he emptied himself between them, his ass milking Ansh’s cock in frantic, rhythmic pulses.
The intense clenching was Ansh’s undoing. With a choked, guttural sound, he drove into Rishav one last time and held, his body shuddering as he emptied another scorching-hot load deep inside. Rishav could feel each hot, wet pulse, a flooding sensation that seemed to go on forever, filling him beyond what he thought was possible.
They collapsed together, a tangled, sticky, breathless heap. Ansh’s weight was a comfort, a grounding force. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant, domestic clatter of a cup being placed in a sink.
Then, a soft knock on the bedroom door.
“Ansh?” His mother’s voice was gentle, concerned. “Everything alright? I thought I heard a… a thump.”
The knock was a bucket of ice water. Ansh’s body went rigid atop his, every muscle tightening. Rishav’s own heart felt like it was trying to burst through his ribs. The warm, wet fullness inside him suddenly felt like a damning piece of evidence.
“Ansh?” The voice came again, muffled but clear through the door. “Everything alright? I thought I heard a… a thump.”
Ansh’s hand, still clamped over Rishav’s mouth, pressed down harder in a silent command for absolute quiet. His eyes, wide with a frantic mix of panic and undiminished lust, bored into Rishav’s.
“Yeah, Ma!” Ansh called back, his voice impressively steady, only the slightest strain betraying their situation. He didn’t move, didn’t pull out. Rishav could feel his cousin’s cock, still half-hard and buried deep, twitch inside him. “Fine! Just… knocked my knee on the bed frame. Playing a game. It’s intense. Don’t disturb us.”
A beat of silence. Rishav held his breath, certain she could hear the frantic pounding of his heart, smell the sex saturating the air.
“Alright… well, don’t stay up too late,” she finally replied, her footsteps retreating down the hall.
The moment her footsteps faded, the tension didn’t break—it twisted, transmuting from fear back into raw, unfiltered need. Ansh’s eyes darkened, the panic evaporating to be replaced by something far more dangerous. A predatory gleam.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the word a hot puff of air against Rishav’s ear. He slowly, deliberately, pulled his softening cock out. The sensation was a slick, wet slide that made Rishav gasp against his palm, followed by a heavy trickle of their combined release onto the sheets.
Ansh removed his hand. “Turn over.”
The command was low, guttural, leaving no room for argument. Rishav scrambled to obey, his body thrumming with a fresh wave of adrenaline-laced desire. He got onto his hands and knees, presenting his ass to his cousin, feeling exposed and utterly wanton. The cool air of the room hit his wet, stretched hole, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.
Ansh’s hands were on him instantly, one gripping his hip bone with a force that would leave fingerprints, the other spreading his cheeks wide open. “Look at that,” he groaned, his voice thick with a filthy awe. “My fucking cum is just dripping out of you. Your hole is still gaping for me. It’s fucking beautiful.”
Rishav shuddered, pushing his ass back, a silent plea for more. The vulgar words, the crude appreciation of his body, sent another jolt straight to his already twitching cock.
He felt the broad, slick head of Ansh’s dick nudge against his entrance. It was already hard again, impossibly so. How? Ansh wasn’t just insatiable; he was a fucking machine built for this, for fucking him.
“You hear her out there?” Ansh whispered, leaning over him, his chest pressing against Rishav’s back. He didn’t push in yet. He just teased, circling his cockhead around Rishav’s sensitive rim. “She thinks we’re playing games. She has no idea her son is about to fuck another load into her nephew’s ass.”
“Please, Ansh,” Rishav begged, his voice cracking. “Do it. Fuck me. I need it.”
“What do you need?” Ansh’s voice was a low growl, a dark promise. “Use your words, you filthy slut. Tell me exactly what you need your cousin to do to you.”
“I need your cock!” Rishav gasped, the confession torn from him. “I need you to fuck me doggy style. I need you to push all your cum back inside me and then fucking add to it. I need to be so full of you I can’t walk straight tomorrow.”
A low, approving rumble came from Ansh’s chest. “That’s my fucking boy.”
He thrust forward. Not slowly, not gently. A single, brutal, fucking piston stroke that buried him to the hilt in one go. Rishav’s cry of pure pleasure was swallowed by the mattress as he buried his face in the sheets. The stretch was unbelievable, a searing, perfect fullness that robbed him of all thought.
Ansh didn’t pause. He set a ruthless, driving rhythm, his hips slapping against Rishav’s ass with a wet, rhythmic smack that was far too loud. Each thrust was a claim, a punctuation mark on their shared, dangerous secret.
“So fucking tight,” Ansh grunted, his fingers digging into Rishav’s hips, surely leaving bruises. “Still so fucking tight even though I’ve filled you up twice already. Your ass was made for my cock, Rishav. It’s just sucking me back in.”
Rishav could only moan, pushing back against each punishing thrust, meeting him stroke for stroke. The pleasure was a coiling, white-hot wire in his gut, pulled tighter and tighter with every slam of Ansh’s hips.
Ansh leaned forward again, his chest plastered to Rishav’s sweaty back, one hand snaking around to clamp firmly over Rishav’s mouth again. His other hand stayed on Rishav’s hip, holding him in place for his fucking.
“Gotta be quiet,” Ansh breathed directly into his ear, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. “Can’t let mommy hear what a fucking whore her nephew is for his cousin’s dick. Can’t let her hear how much you love getting bred.”
The words, the heat of his body, the relentless pounding—it was overwhelming. Rishav’s orgasm began to build again, a terrifyingly fast ascent. He whimpered against Ansh’s palm, his body starting to tremble.
“You gonna come?” Ansh panted, his thrusts becoming sharper, more erratic. “You gonna shoot your fucking load all over these sheets without me even touching your dick? Just from me fucking this perfect ass?”
Rishav nodded frantically, a desperate, muffled sound of affirmation escaping against Ansh’s fingers.
“Do it,” Ansh commanded, his voice a strained, guttural rasp. “Come for me. Paint the fucking bed. I want to feel that tight cunt milk my cock while you do it. I’m gonna fill you up. I’m gonna put a third fucking baby in you right now.”
The crude, impossible promise was the final trigger. Rishav’s vision whited out as his orgasm detonated. It was a silent, convulsive explosion, his body seizing as his cock jerked and spilled itself onto the rumpled sheets beneath him. His ass clenched rhythmically, viciously around Ansh’s pounding length, pulling a choked, guttural sound from his cousin’s throat.
Ansh fucked him through it, his rhythm breaking down into frantic, desperate shoves. “Yeah! Take it! Take my fucking seed!”
With a final, deep, ground-shaking thrust, he buried himself and held, his body convulsing as he came. Rishav felt the hot, wet flood, another scalding jet of release pumping deep into his already-full guts. It felt endless, a claiming so profound it felt like it was changing him on a cellular level. Ansh collapsed on top of him, his full weight pressing Rishav into the mattress, both of them slick with sweat and spent.
They lay there for a long moment, the only sound their ragged, synced breathing. Ansh’s cock softened inside him, a thick, pleasant plug holding his immense load at bay. The warmth was incredible, a deep, internal heat that felt possessive and perfect.
From the living room, the faint sound of a television turning on floated down the hall.
Ansh stirred first, slowly pulling out. The resulting gush was immediate and profound, a heavy, wet spill of their mixed releases onto Rishav’s thighs and the sheets. Ansh chuckled, a low, dark sound of pure male satisfaction.
“Look at that,” he murmured, tracing a finger through the mess on Rishav’s skin. “You’re overflowing. I fucked you so full there’s no room left.” He brought his finger to his mouth, licking it clean without a hint of shame. “All mine.”
He rolled off, lying beside Rishav on the ruined sheets. The streetlamp light cut across his torso, highlighting the sweat sheening on his muscles. He was staring at the ceiling, a faint, dangerous smile on his lips.
“She’s watching her shows,” he said, his voice casual, as if they’d just come back from a run, not from the edge of familial ruin. “Probably for a couple hours.”
He turned his head on the pillow, his eyes finding Rishav’s in the semi-darkness. The look in them was not sated. It was hungry.
“Think you can get hard again?”
