Ansh’s eyes, dark and commanding, held his. That faint, dangerous smile didn’t fade. His hand, slick with their sweat, slid down Rishav’s stomach, his fingers tracing through the sticky mess on his skin.
“Think you can get hard again?” Ansh repeated, his voice a low, insistent hum.
Before Rishav could form an answer, Ansh’s expression shifted. The predatory gleam intensified. He moved with a sudden, shocking purpose, shifting his body down the bed. He positioned himself between Rishav’s splayed legs, his gaze fixed on his own dick, which was already thickening again, glistening with their mixed release.
“Look at the fucking state of me,” Ansh growled, not with disgust, but with a dark, possessive pride. He gripped his cock at the base, presenting it. “You made this mess. Now clean it up.”
Rishav’s breath caught. The command was so raw, so degrading. And he wanted it. He pushed himself up on his elbows, his body aching and spent, yet a new, submissive heat flickered to life inside him. He leaned forward, his tongue tentatively meeting the slick, musky head of Ansh’s cock.
The taste was explosive—salt, sweat, and the distinct, musky flavor of his own ass and their combined cum. It was the most intimate, filthy thing he’d ever done.
“That’s it,” Ansh encouraged, his voice a rough scratch. “Lick it clean. Use your fucking tongue. Get every last drop.”
Rishav obeyed, his tongue swirling around the broad head, lapping up their essence. He took the length into his mouth, sucking gently, cleaning his cousin’s shaft with a devotion that shocked him. He was worshiping the very cock that had just wrecked him.
Ansh groaned, his head falling back. “Fuck, yes. Your mouth is almost as good as your ass. Almost.” He let Rishav continue for another moment before his hands fisted in Rishav’s hair, not pulling him off, but holding him there. “Okay. Enough. I need to be inside you again. Now.”
He pulled Rishav up and pushed him onto his back with a force that left no room for argument. In one fluid motion, he grabbed Rishav’s legs, hooking them over his broad shoulders, spreading him open and lifting his ass high off the bed. The position was brutally exposing, his used, leaking hole on full display for Ansh’s hungry gaze.
“I want to watch your face when I fuck another load into you,” Ansh said, his voice thick with need. He guided his cock, now gleaming from Rishav’s mouth, back to its home. “I want to see your eyes roll back when I hit that spot.”
He thrust in. The angle was different, deeper, more intense. Rishav cried out as Ansh buried himself to the hilt, the sensation so overwhelming his vision blurred at the edges. Ansh didn’t wait, setting a punishing, deep rhythm, each drive of his hips nailing Rishav’s prostate with unerring accuracy.
“Your fucking cunt is perfection,” Ansh grunted, his eyes locked on where they were joined. “It’s swallowing my dick whole. It’s made for me. Say it.”
“It’s made for you!” Rishav gasped, the words torn from him by the relentless fucking. “Only for you, Ansh!”
“Gonna breed you like this,” Ansh promised, his pace becoming frantic, his abs coiling with each powerful thrust. “Gonna pump my fucking cousins’ seed so deep into your guts it’ll take root. You’ll walk around for days feeling me inside you, remember how I claimed you.”
The vulgar promise, the sheer taboo of it, pushed Rishav toward another impossible peak. “Yes! Fuck, Ansh, don’t stop! Breed me! I want it!”
Ansh slammed into him, over and over, the bed rocking against the wall. “You want my fucking mouth again? Huh? After I fill this ass, you want to taste yourself on my cock?”
“Yes! God, yes!” Rishav begged, his mind fracturing under the sensory overload.
“You’re a fucking addict,” Ansh rasped, his rhythm starting to falter, his own climax nearing. “You can’t get enough of my dick. You want it in your ass, then your mouth, then your ass again. You’re my personal fucking fleshlight, Rishav. My perfect, filthy cousin.”
He was pistoning into him now, a machine of pure desire. Rishav felt his own orgasm building, a dry, aching throb that promised to shatter him.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound was like a gunshot.
Ansh froze, buried to the hilt. His eyes, wide with a fresh wave of panic, shot to the door. Rishav’s blood ran cold.
“Ansh?” His mother’s voice. She was right outside. “What is all that banging? Are you two wrestling in there?”
“Hide,” Ansh mouthed, the word silent but frantic. He pulled out of Rishav with a wet, unmistakable sound, a fresh trickle of cum immediately leaking onto the sheets. He shoved Rishav toward the side of the bed, scrambling to grab a discarded towel to cover himself.
Rishav’s mind was a scramble of terror and unspent lust. He stumbled toward the door, his body humming, his ass aching and full. He grabbed his jeans, yanking them up but not fastening them, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. He ran a shaky hand through his sweat-damp hair just as the doorknob turned.
He pulled the door open a crack, blocking the view inside with his body.
His aunt stood there, her brow furrowed with concern. Her eyes scanned him, taking in his flushed face, his heaving chest, the undone jeans, the unmistakable smell of sex that wafted out from the room. Her expression shifted from concern to sharp, maternal suspicion.
“Rishav? What is going on in there? It sounds like you’re tearing the place apart. And you look… disheveled.”
From behind him, Rishav heard the faint, desperate rustle of Ansh trying to look inconspicuous. His mind raced, grasping for anything. The first stupid, plausible lie that came to him fell from his lips.
“Workout, Masi,” he blurted out, his voice too high, too tight. “Ansh was… he was just making me do… a new workout routine. It was really intense.”
The lie hung in the air, ridiculous and thin. Rishav’s heart hammered against his ribs as his aunt’s eyes narrowed, her gaze sweeping over his disheveled state, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the undone jeans. The thick, musky scent of sex was a palpable cloud around him.
“A workout,” Masi repeated, her tone flat with disbelief. Her eyes darted past his shoulder into the dim room.
“Yeah, a real… intense one,” Ansh’s voice came from behind Rishav, smoother, more controlled. He appeared at Rishav’s side, a towel slung low around his hips, his chest still glistening. He looked every bit the devoted fitness instructor. “My cousin’s got no stamina. Was just showing him a new core routine. Really works the… glutes.”
Masi’s suspicious look softened fractionally, but didn’t vanish. “Well, keep the furniture in one piece. Dinner is almost ready. Don’t be long.” She gave them both one last, lingering glance before turning and walking back toward the kitchen.
Ansh closed the door slowly, clicking the lock into place this time. The moment the latch engaged, the faux-casual mask dropped from his face. He turned to Rishav, his eyes blazing with a dark fire.
“A workout,” he said, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face. He took a step forward, and Rishav took an involuntary step back, his bare heels hitting the door. “You think that was a good lie?”
“It was the first thing I thought of,” Rishav breathed, his body still thrumming with the adrenaline of almost being caught and the raw, unspent need from their interruption.
“It was a fucking perfect lie,” Ansh growled, closing the final distance between them. He didn’t kiss him. His hands went to the button of Rishav’s jeans, popping it open with a sharp tug. “Because it gave me a fucking fantastic idea.”
He yanked the jeans down Rishav’s thighs in one rough motion, leaving them tangled around his ankles. The cool air hit Rishav’s wet, sensitive skin, and he gasped. Ansh’s eyes dropped, drinking in the sight of his own cum still glistening, starting to leak anew from Rishav’s stretched hole.
“Turn around,” Ansh commanded, his voice a low thrum of pure dominance. “Bend over. Hold onto the door. Let me see that ‘workout’ form.”
A fresh wave of desire, hot and liquid, shot through Rishav’s gut. He obeyed without hesitation, turning and pressing his palms flat against the cool wood of the door. He bent at the waist, presenting his ass to his cousin, his heart pounding with a mix of terror and wanton excitement.
Ansh’s hands were on him instantly, not gentle, but possessive. His thumbs dug into the fleshy cheeks of Rishav’s ass, spreading him wide open. “Look at this,” he murmured, his voice thick with a filthy appreciation. “Your hole is still gaping for me. It’s fucking red and wet and used. My cum is just starting to drip out. You see that?”
Rishav craned his neck, looking back between his own legs. The sight was devastatingly obscene—his own body, splayed open, violated and marked, glistening with his cousin’s release. “I see it,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
“Good.” Ansh released one cheek, and Rishav heard the slick sound of him spitting into his own palm. He reached between Rishav’s legs, his spit-slicked fingers rubbing roughly over his sensitive entrance, smearing his own cum back inside. The crude, possessive act made Rishav shudder. “Now, let’s work on that core.”
Without another word of warning, Ansh positioned himself and drove forward. His cock, already rock-hard again, slammed into Rishav’s willing body in one brutal, unforgiving thrust.
Rishav cried out, the sound stifled by the door his face was pressed against. The stretch was immense, a searing, perfect fullness that stole the air from his lungs. He was still so open, so ready, his body accepting every thick inch without protest.
Ansh didn’t pause. He set a punishing, rhythmic pace from the very first second. His hips pistoned against Rishav’s ass, each thrust a sharp, powerful smack that echoed in the quiet room. He gripped Rishav’s hips hard, his fingers digging in, using his body for leverage, for fucking.
“This the… fucking… routine…” Ansh grunted between thrusts, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. “Feel that burn? That’s your core… fucking… engaging.”
The vulgar twist on the lie, the sheer audacity of it, pushed Rishav’s arousal to a fever pitch. He pushed back against Ansh’s thrusts, meeting him stroke for brutal stroke. “Yes! Fuck, Ansh! Harder!”
“You want a deeper stretch?” Ansh growled, his voice dripping with dark amusement. He pulled Rishaw’s hips back even farther, changing the angle. The next thrust drove into him impossibly deeper, nailing his prostate with unerring accuracy.
A white-hot bolt of pleasure shot up Rishav’s spine. “Fuck! Right there! Don’t stop! Fuck me right there!”
“Your ass is fucking made for this,” Ansh grunted, his rhythm becoming more frantic, less controlled. The wet, slapping sounds of their bodies meeting filled the room, a stark contrast to the distant clatter of pans from the kitchen. “Made to take my cock. Made to be bred. You think you can come from this? You think you can shoot your load all over this door just from me fucking this perfect, used-up hole?”
“I’m close! God, I’m so close!” Rishav babbled, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wood. The pleasure was a coil pulled taut in his gut, vibrating with the promise of a shattering release.
“Do it,” Ansh commanded, his own voice straining with the effort of holding back his own climax. “Come for me. Mark this fucking door. Let me feel you milk my cock dry. I’m gonna fill you up again, Rishav. I’m gonna pump another fucking load so deep into you, you’ll taste it at dinner.”
The crude promise, the terrifying thrill of his aunt just rooms away, was too much. Rishav’s orgasm ripped through him with the force of a train wreck. It was a dry, convulsive explosion, his body seizing as his untouched cock jerked and spilled nothing but a few drops of clear fluid onto the door and the floor beneath him. His ass clamped down on Ansh’s pounding length in frantic, rhythmic pulses, pulling a guttural, choked sound from his cousin’s throat.
The intense, vicious clenching was Ansh’s undoing. With a final, animalistic grunt, he slammed into Rishav and held, burying himself to the hilt. Rishav felt the hot, sudden flood as Ansh came, another scalding jet of release pumping deep into his already overfilled guts. The warmth spread through him, a profound, claiming heat that felt endless.
They collapsed against the door, a tangled, sweating, breathless heap. Ansh’s full weight pressed Rishav into the wood, his softening cock still buried inside, acting as a plug. For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the faint, domestic sounds from the kitchen.
Slowly, Ansh pulled out. The resulting gush was immediate, a heavy, warm spill of cum cascading down Rishav’s thighs. Ansh chuckled darkly, tracing a finger through the mess.
“Look at this fucking mess we made,” he murmured, his voice husky with satisfaction. He brought his finger to his mouth, licking it clean. “You’re dripping all over the floor. My fucking brand is all over you.”
He stepped back, slapping Rishav lightly on the ass. “Now we really do have to clean up. She’s waiting.”
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at the small dining table. Rishav felt raw, exposed, every movement a reminder of the brutal reaming he’d just received. The scent of soap and shampoo from their rushed shower couldn’t quite mask the deeper, musky scent of sex that seemed to emanate from his very pores. He could feel it, a heavy, warm presence deep inside him, a persistent leak he prayed his jeans would contain.
Masi placed a bowl of steaming curry in front of him. “Eat, beta. You need to rebuild your strength after that… workout.” Her tone was light, but her eyes held a knowing glint that made Rishav’s stomach clench.
Ansh, sitting across from him, looked utterly at ease, a faint, smug smile playing on his lips. He took a bite of rice, his eyes locked on Rishav’s.
“So, Rishav,” Masi said, sitting down with her own plate. “This new routine. What exactly does it involve?”
