The first time I saw him, he stood out in the crowded hotel lobby. Amid the sea of dark suits and conference badges, his sharp features and the way he carried himself caught my attention. Even from across the room, the sight of him made my pulse quicken. I watched him a moment longer than I should have, knowing I probably shouldn’t.
I gathered the courage to approach and held out my hand.
“Aditya Kumar,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest.
He took my hand in his, his grip firm and assured and offered me a warm smile.
“Vishal Dua.”
Before long, we found ourselves seated together at the hotel bar. The soft amber lighting cast a warm glow across the room and reflected in the glasses before us. I stole occasional glances at him, admiring the way the light traced his features and how his eyes brightened whenever he laughed. When the bartender asked whether we wanted another round, Vishal nodded without hesitation and ordered two more scotches.
The conversation moved easy. Normal stuff at first, then deeper. I caught myself telling him things I usually kept buried. He listened without rushing in with his own opinions and that felt rare.
After a bit our fingers brushed reaching for the glasses. We both left them there a second.
He put his drink down. “I think it’s time we take this to my room.” His voice was quiet. I nodded fast, then wondered if I should have said something first.
We got up from the bar. Our shoulders bumped as we moved through the tables and the crowd. He reached for my hand and laced our fingers together. The contact felt good, solid. The hallway to his room seemed to stretch. Neither of us said much. I glanced at him once but kept walking.
At the door he slid the key card in. It worked on the second try. He opened it wide and let me step inside first. The room was standard, lights low. He closed the door behind us and pulled me close. Bodies pressed together. I rested my hands on his waist right away.
We stood there a moment. His eyes held mine. I caught a quick flicker of uncertainty on his face before it smoothed out. He leaned in and kissed me. Our noses bumped once. We adjusted without a word. His tongue slid into my mouth. I wrapped my arms around him, palms flat against his back. The kiss grew deeper. His hand moved under my shirt. I pulled him closer instead of stopping him.
He grabbed the hem of my shirt and yanked it open. Buttons scattered. I pushed his shirt off his shoulders and ran my hands over the warmth of his chest. He guided me backward until my back hit the wall. One hand stayed tangled in my hair. The other nudged my knees apart. I shifted against him, wondering for a second how easy this all felt.
His mouth trailed from mine down my jaw, leaving wet kisses along my neck. I tilted my head back, breath coming faster. He sucked gently under my ear and I let out a low sound. His hand slid lower, cupping my ass and pulling me tight against the hard press of him.
I reached between us, unfastened his pants, shoved them and his underwear down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy. I knelt and took him into my mouth. He groaned. I worked him slow at first, then deeper, hands gripping his ass while he pushed forward to meet me. The wet sounds mixed with our breathing. My jaw started to ache but I kept going, focused on the way his fingers tightened in my hair.
When he got close he pulled me off, hands on my shoulders. Came hot across my chest and face. I watched him shudder through it.
Afterward he looked down at me. Wiped some from my lip with his thumb. I licked it off. His hands cupped my cheeks, brushing more onto my lips. I took it. He leaned in and kissed me again, slower.
“Let me take care of you,” he said quietly. Then took my hand and led me to the bathroom. The shower hissed on and steam started filling the small glass enclosure almost immediately as we stepped in together. He fiddled with the temperature, testing the water with his hand a couple of times before pulling me under the spray with him.
His hands started on my shoulders, soaping away the sticky mess still on my chest and stomach. The hot water felt good running over us. I closed my eyes for a moment and just breathed through the steady slide of his palms, letting the heat loosen everything that had tightened up earlier.
He turned me to face the tile and set my hands against the wall. Soaped my back in slow strokes, his fingers pressing along my spine before they moved lower. I shifted my weight when he reached around, one hand brushing over my chest while his thumb caught a nipple. The other slid down my stomach. I stayed pressed there against the cool surface and let him keep going.
His right hand wrapped around my cock, stroking with the soap. I pushed into the grip without thinking. His left hand stayed on my chest for a while, then moved to my ass, soaping my cheeks thoroughly. His fingers slipped between them, circling my rim and pressing lightly. I tensed for a brief second before I relaxed into the pressure, the water still beating down on my shoulders.
Then his lips touched my shoulder.
He kissed me slowly, lingering there before stepping back.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered.
The shower door opened, letting in a brief rush of cool air. Then he was gone, leaving me beneath the warm water, breathless and wondering what he intended to do when he returned.
He came back into the shower and turned me toward him. The water shut off. He kissed me deep and slow, the kind that made me forget the steam for a second. His right hand moved behind me, wrist twisting. I felt the cool slick of lube when his finger pushed inside. Another followed. They slid in easy and I let out a low sound, tightening around them while my hands moved over his back and down to his ass.
I reached between us and felt his cock, already slippery. I smiled a little, half nervous, half ready, when I realized how much he had prepped. He pulled his fingers free, spun me around, and bent me forward. My palms hit the tile. He ran his hands over my hips and ass, teasing my hole again before I felt the head of his cock press there.
He pushed in with one steady thrust. It stung sharp. I tensed hard and he stopped right away, hand on my waist. “Okay?” he asked quietly. I pushed back just enough to tell him to keep going. He turned the water back on. Started moving slow, letting me adjust while the spray hit my shoulders and back.
The rhythm built. He thrust deeper, one hand braced beside mine on the wall. I felt every inch, the stretch and the heat of him inside. He leaned in and kissed my shoulder, breath rough against my skin. My body tightened around him as the pleasure started to take over. I came hard, spurting onto the tile, toes curling against the floor while my mouth fell open.
He kept going, thrusts getting shorter and harder. I felt him twitch and swell. His balls pressed tight against me as he came, filling me with warm pulses. We stayed like that, connected, breathing heavy. His forehead rested on my shoulder. The water ran down over us both, washing everything away.
After a minute he pulled out carefully. Whispered, “Thank you,” against my neck. It sounded like more than just the sex. I nodded, throat tight, and turned to wrap my arms around him. We stood there under the spray for a while, not saying much else.
He started soaping me again, hands moving slow over my chest and sides. His eyes stayed on mine. “I want to make love to you again,” he said, voice hoarse. “But this time I want you to take control.”
We stood there under the cooling spray for a while longer, arms around each other. The water shut off and the sudden quiet settled around us, broken only by the slow drip from our bodies onto the tile.
He stepped back, eyes still on mine, and grabbed a towel from the hook outside the glass. He wrapped it around my shoulders first, then tied one around his own waist. The rough fabric felt good after all that heat. I smiled a little, feeling exposed in a way that wasn’t entirely bad.
“Let’s take this to the bed,” he said, voice low. He led me out into the cooler bedroom air. Goosebumps rose on my arms. On the bedside table sat a bottle of whisky and two glasses. He poured a couple fingers into each and handed one over.
“A drink,” he said, mouth twitching like he knew it was a weak excuse.
We sat on the edge of the bed, towels loose around us, and sipped. The whisky burned clean down my throat and settled warm in my stomach. The silence between us felt comfortable. After a minute his hand found my thigh, fingers tracing slow lines across the skin. I turned toward him. Our eyes met.
I set my glass down. He did the same. He leaned in and kissed me, soft at first. I kissed him back, letting it build. His hand slid up my thigh and over my hip, thumb brushing across my nipple. I drew in a quick breath. The towel slipped off me. His palm cupped my chest, thumb circling slowly. I arched into the touch.
He pulled back enough to look at me. “I want you to take control,” he whispered. His eyes held steady. “I want to feel you on me.”
I smiled, a quiet rush of want moving through me. I nodded once. He lay back, watching me the whole time, body tight with waiting.
I moved behind him, hands on his hips. He tensed under my palms. I reached for the lube on the bedside table, slicked myself up, then pressed the head of my cock against him. He tightened at first, resisting. I paused, rubbing slow circles on his lower back, feeling the way his breathing changed.
“Relax,” I whispered. “Let me in.”
He took a breath. I felt him ease a little. I pushed forward again and this time I slipped inside, slow and steady, into the tight heat of him. He let out a deep groan, back arching. I stayed still for a moment, letting him adjust, my hands gripping his hips while I tried not to lose control too soon.
I started moving, shallow thrusts at first. He was incredibly tight, but warm, and he gradually opened up around me. I leaned over him, one hand braced on the bed, the other sliding up his back. His sounds grew rougher as I picked up speed. “Fuck, yes,” he muttered, pushing back harder to meet me. The feeling of him squeezing around my cock made my head spin.
I reached around and wrapped my hand around his erection, stroking him in time with my thrusts. He groaned louder, hips jerking. I slowed deliberately for a minute, not ready for it to end yet. Drew it out until I couldn’t anymore. My thrusts turned harder, deeper. The pressure built fast. One last push and I came hard inside him, pulsing with each spurt. He clenched tight around me and came too, spilling over my fingers with a sharp, broken sound.
We collapsed onto the bed, bodies slick, chests heaving. For a minute we just lay there, catching our breath. He turned his head toward me, a tired, satisfied smile on his face.
“Fuck… that was intense,” he said, voice rough and low.
I smiled back, still breathing hard, my hand resting on his side. “Yeah. Really good.”
We lay there for a while, bodies tangled, breathing slowly settling.
Then he shifted, that mischievous look back in his eyes. “I’m not done with you yet,” he said, voice low. He rolled me onto my stomach and arranged a couple of pillows under my hips, lifting me. I sank into the others, adjusting to the new angle while he settled behind me.
His hands spread my ass cheeks. He rubbed his face against me first, then bit down on one side, then the other, hard enough to make me squirm and gasp. The sting mixed with the heat of his mouth. He licked over the spots he’d bitten before his tongue pushed against my hole. I let out a sharp sound, hips twitching. It was still sensitive from before, almost too much, but I didn’t want him to stop.
He held my ass cheeks wider with both hands and went deeper, licking and sucking with clear hunger. His moans vibrated against me. My cock hardened again, leaking onto the sheets. I pushed back against his face, chasing the sensation. He kept at it, tongue working in and out, then circling the rim before pressing back inside. The wet sounds mixed with my breathing.
I came like that, sudden and hard, clenching around his tongue while I spilled across the bed. He didn’t stop right away. Licked slower through the aftershocks until I was twitching and oversensitive, hips jerking away from his mouth.
He finally pulled back and collapsed on top of me, chest to my back, heavy and warm. We stayed like that for a long time, catching our breath. His weight felt good pinning me into the mattress. I could feel the slow throb in every part of me and the steady rise and fall of his breathing against my skin.
Later we shifted onto our sides, facing each other. He stroked my hair, fingers slow. I hooked a leg over his and let my eyes drift half closed. The room was quiet except for the occasional sound of the air conditioning. We didn’t talk much. Just small touches — his thumb brushing my jaw, my hand resting on his chest, tracing the line of his collarbone.
Sleep started tugging at me, but I fought it. I wanted to stay in this feeling a while longer, wrapped up in him. He seemed to sense it and pulled me closer, tucking my head under his chin. Every now and then he’d press a lazy kiss to my forehead or cheek.
We drifted in and out like that for a while. But even half-asleep the low spark of want came back. He rolled onto his back and tugged me on top. I straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss him. Our mouths moved slow at first, then deeper, tongues sliding together, tasting the faint salt on each other’s skin. His hand found my cock and stroked me while I rocked against his stomach, grinding my length along the firm muscle there.
He was hard again too, cock pressing hot against my ass. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around both of us, sliding them together in a slow rhythm. The slickness from earlier made everything glide. I moved my hips deliberately, teasing the head of his cock with my thumb on each stroke. He groaned into my mouth and thrust up to meet me, one hand gripping my ass to pull me tighter against him.
We stayed like that for a long time, kissing messily, hands and hips working in the same rhythm. The pressure built gradually, low and heavy. I came first, spilling over his stomach and chest in thick pulses, my whole body shuddering. He followed right after, groaning low against my lips as he pulsed between us, warm and wet.
We stayed pressed together afterward, sticky and breathing hard. The first gray light was starting to show at the edges of the curtains. Neither of us moved to clean up. I just rested my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat slowly calm down, feeling the mess between us and the heavy warmth of his arms around me. His skin was warm against mine. We stayed like that for a long time without saying anything. There was no need for big words.
I didn’t want to sleep yet. Part of me wanted to stay awake and hold on to the night a little longer.
But exhaustion eventually won. My eyelids grew heavy, and I let them close, still pressed close to him.
I knew I would carry those hours with me, the unexpected ease of being beside him, the rare feelings that neither of us had needed to hide. I drifted off with his leg hooked over mine and his breath warm against my hair, knowing daylight would pull us back to the promises we had left waiting outside the door.
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